sometimes. Perhaps you heard me scolding her; but I
consider she was decidedly in the wrong.'

'She does not look very good-tempered,' was my reply.

Miss Darrell still looked flushed and perturbed; but she took up her
fan and vinaigrette, and proposed that we should join Lady Betty in the
drawing-room. Leah was in the hall. As we passed her she addressed Miss
Darrell.

'If you can spare me a moment, ma'am, I should like to speak to you,' she
said, quite civilly; but I thought her manner a little menacing.

'Will not another time do, Leah?' returned her mistress in a worried
tone; but the next moment she begged me to go in without her.

Lady Betty was sitting by the open window with Nap beside her. I thought
the poor little girl looked dull and lonely. She gave an exclamation of
pleasure at seeing me, and ran towards me with outstretched hands. She
looked like a child in her little white gown and blue ribbons, with her
short curly hair.

'I am so glad to see you, Miss Garston! I thought Etta would keep you,
I have been alone all the afternoon: Etta never sits with me now. How
I wish Gladys would come back! I have no one to speak to, and I miss her
horribly.'

'Poor Lady Betty!'

'You would say so, if you knew how horrid it all was. Just now, as I was
sitting alone, I felt like a poor little princess shut up in an enchanted
tower. Giles is the magician, and Etta is the wicked witch. I was making
up quite a story about it.'

'Why have you not been to see me lately, Lady Betty?'

'Oh, how silly you are to ask me such a question!' she returned
pettishly. 'You had better ask Witch Etta. Now you pretend to look
surprised. She won't let me come--there!'

'My dear child, surely you need not consult your cousin.'

'Of course not,' wrinkling her forehead; 'but then, you see, Witch Etta
consults me: she makes a point of finding out all my little plans and
nipping them in the bud. She says she really cannot allow me to go so
often to the White Cottage; Mr. Cunliffe and Mr. Tudor are always there,
and it is not proper. She is always hinting that I want to meet Mr.
Tudor, and it is no good telling her that I never think of such a thing.'
Lady Betty was half crying. A more innocent, harmless little soul never
breathed; she had not a spice of coquetry in her nature. I felt indignant
at such an accusation.

'It is all nonsense, Lady Betty,' I returned sharply. 'Mr. Tudor has not
called at the cottage more than once since