essly.

'Yes, go if you like,' was the somewhat ungracious answer.

'She is glad enough to get away from me,' she muttered, when Kitty had
shut the door gently behind her. 'Children have no heart; she is an
ungrateful, selfish little thing; but they are all that; we clothe her
and feed her, and it is little we get out of her in return; and Susan
is working her fingers to the bone for the two of us.'

I took no notice of this outburst, and commenced clearing away the
medicine-bottles to make room for my basket of chrysanthemums and
ivy-leaves. Uncle Max had procured them for me, but I had no idea as
I arranged them that they had come from Gladwyn.

Phoebe watched my movements very gloomily; she evidently disapproved
of the whole proceeding. I carried out the bottles to Miss Locke, and
begged her to throw them away: 'they are of no use to her,' I observed.
'Mr. Hamilton intends to send her a new mixture, and this array of
half-emptied phials is simply absurd: it is just a whim. If your sister
asks for them when I have gone, you can tell her that Miss Garston
ordered them to be destroyed.'

On my return to the room I found Phoebe lying with her eyes closed. I
could have laughed outright at her perversity, for of course she had shut
them to exclude the sight of the flower-basket, though it was the
loveliest little bit of colour, the dark-red chrysanthemum nestled so
prettily among trails of tiny variegated ivy. I resolved to punish her
for this piece of morbid obstinacy, and took down the wire blind; she was
speechless with anger when she found out what I had done, but I was
resolved not to humour these ridiculous fancies; the dull wintry light
was not too much for her.

'You must not be allowed to have your own way so entirely,' I said,
laughing: 'your sister is very wrong to give in to you. Mr. Hamilton
wishes your room to be more cheerful: he says the dull surroundings
depress and keep you low and desponding, and I must carry out his orders,
and try how we are to make your room a little brighter. Now'--as she
seemed about to speak--'I am going to sing to you, and then we will have
a talk.'

'I don't care to hear singing to-day, my head buzzes so with all this
flack,' was the sullen answer; but I took no notice of this ill-tempered
remark, and began a little Scotch ballad that I thought was bright and
spirited.

She closed her eyes again, with an expression of weariness and disgust
that made me smile in spite of