lemn tones--

"Miss Beveridge."

The first governess had arrived!

CHAPTER TWELVE.

MISS BEVERIDGE.

She was small and thin, with a bleached, joyless face, which seemed all
of the same dull grey tint. Grey hair, grey eyes, grey complexion, a
pinched-in mouth and deeply-furrowed forehead. She was dressed in
black--shabby black, which is the shabbiest of all shabbies--and,
looking at her, it seemed impossible to believe that there had ever been
a time when she was young and happy, and had frisked and frolicked, and
liked pretty things like any ordinary girl. Cynthia and Betty felt a
chill of dismay, but Nan's heart gave a throb of delight. This was one
of the very starved, joyless lives which she longed to brighten; it
would have been difficult to find a better type of the class. She
walked quickly forward, and held out a warm, welcoming hand.

"How do you do? I am so pleased you have come?"

Miss Beveridge looked at her coldly, then cast an inquiring glance
around the room; at the luxurious hangings and furniture, at the glowing
fire, at Betty slim and childish in her simple blue frock, at Cynthia
with her flowing locks.

"Is--is Mrs Vanburgh not at home?" she inquired, drawing up her thin
figure with an air of wounded dignity. "I understood that the hours
mentioned were from three to seven, but if she is engaged--"

Nan smiled in the merry, radiant manner which made her look even younger
than her years.

"I am Mrs Vanburgh!"

"Oh, indeed!" said Miss Beveridge coldly.

Why she should have taken the announcement as a personal insult the
girls could not understand, but that she did receive it in such, a
spirit was proved by the sudden stiffening which passed over her
features even as she spoke. She seated herself on the edge of the chair
to which Nan escorted her, sternly refused an offer of tea, and
vouchsafed only monosyllabic replies when spoken to. It was a terrible
occasion! Nan took refuge in the resort of the destitute, and exhausted
the subject of the weather in all its branches.

"It is a very chilly afternoon."

"Very chilly."

"It seemed in the morning as if it were going to clear up."

"It did."

"The forecast says it will rain before night."

"Indeed!"

"November always _is_ a dreary month."

No reply.

"In London there are so many fogs, but in the country the fallen leaves
are almost as depressing."

"Perhaps so."

Nan looked across the room and made a desperate