girl, when she
herself had been inculcating caution.

'In this case,' she added, 'I am sure it is best to keep off family
affairs, you being so young and Lady Myrtle Goodacre so old; and as I
know, there have been sore spots in her history.'

Then she rose from the table.

'Francie, dear, I think you had better go to bed early. You _are_
looking tired,' she said kindly, and as she kissed the little girl she
almost fancied--was it fancy?--that she felt a touch of dew on her
cheek.

'I'm afraid I don't understand children at all,' she thought to herself,
though with a little sigh. 'What in the world can Frances be crying
about?'

Jacinth, once they were alone, did not spare her sister.

'I do think you are too silly,' she said. 'If you go on so oddly after
having an afternoon's play, I am sure Aunt Alison won't let you go
again. First you seemed half asleep, then you jumped and looked
terrified for nothing at all, and now you are actually crying. What _is_
the matter?'

'I didn't mean'----began Frances.

'I believe it's those girls,' continued Jacinth, working herself up to
rare irritation, for as a rule she was gentle to her sister. 'They
really seem to bewitch you. Are you crying because you're not a boarder
at school, so that you could be always beside them?' she added
ironically.

'No, of course not. I wouldn't be so silly,' said Frances, with a touch
of her usual spirit.

'Then what _are_ you crying about?'

Frances murmured something about 'thinking Jacinth was vexed with her.'

'Nonsense,' said Jacinth. 'You know I wasn't in the least till you got
so silly. I don't understand you to-night one bit, but I will say I
think it has something to do with the Harpers, and if they begin coming
between you and me, Frances, I shall end by really disliking them.'

'I think you dislike them already,' retorted Frances, 'and I'm sure I
don't know why.'

To this Jacinth vouchsafed no reply. She would have said the accusation
was not worth noticing. But yet at the bottom of her heart she knew
there was something in it. A vague, ridiculous, unfounded sort of
jealousy of the Harpers had begun to insinuate itself.

'I wish their name had been anything else,' she said to herself. 'I
don't believe they are really any relation to Lady Myrtle--at least not
anything countable. But it is so disagreeable to have the feeling of
knowing anything of people who _may_ be--well, rather objectionable
relations of hers. Well, n