ter answering a question or two from
her aunt about their Indian news.

'Frances,' said her sister, when they found themselves in their own
little sitting-room, 'mamma tells me that she has written a good deal
more to you this time than to me, as there was something particular you
asked her about. And she says you will tell it me all, or show me her
letter.'

[Illustration: Jacinth's brows contracted, and the lines of her delicate
face hardened, but she said nothing.]

Frances drew out her packet.

'There's more than one letter there, surely,' said Jacinth, with some
curiosity.

'Yes,' said Frances, 'there's one I sent on to mamma to read, and she's
sent it back, so that you can see it now. I daresay you'll be angry with
me for not having told you about it before, but I can't help it if you
are. Mamma says I did the best I could; but I am so glad for you to know
all about it now,' and she gave a great sigh.

Jacinth, more and more curious, took the letters which Frances gave her,
and began to read them eagerly. Rather unfortunately, the first she
began was Camilla Harper's, and she went to the end of it in spite of
Frances's 'Oh, do read mamma's first, Jass.'

Jacinth's brows contracted, and the lines of her delicate face hardened,
but she said nothing--nothing really audible, that is to say, though a
murmur escaped her of, 'I knew it had something to do with them; it is
too bad.'

When she had finished, she looked up at her sister.

'There is a good deal more for you to explain,' she said, coldly. 'Mamma
says you will do so--not that I want to hear it. And as you have got so
thoroughly in the way of having secrets from me, and now that you have
friends you care for more than me, I really don't see why I need to be
mixed up in this affair at all.'

'Oh Jass, dear Jass, don't speak like that,' exclaimed Frances, the
ever-ready tears starting to her eyes. 'I couldn't help it. Read again
what mamma says.'

'I know what she says,' Jacinth replied. 'I don't need to read it
again. I am waiting for you to tell me the whole.'

It was difficult, but Frances was eager to re-establish confidence with
her sister. She told the whole--even how the old Christmas card in her
pocket had brought up the subject of Robin Redbreast, and how Bessie had
asked her to tell no one but her mother, if she could help it; then how
Camilla's letter had repeated this, ending up by what had recently come
to her knowledge of the increase