cause he does it so good-naturedly;
but when mamma speaks in that reproachful voice, and says that at my age
I might help her more, I do feel so unhappy. I often cry about it when I
go to bed, and then the next day I am sure to be more stupid, and forget
things and make mistakes, and then mamma gets more displeased with me
than ever.'

'My dear little Mollie, I am sure you work hard enough.'

'Yes, but there is so much to do,' returned Mollie, with a heavy sigh.
'Biddy is so old, she cannot make the beds and sweep and clean and cook
the dinner without any help. Kester is always saying that if we had a
younger and stronger servant we should do so much better. But mamma is
so angry when she hears him say that; she declares nothing will induce
her to part with Biddy--Biddy used to be mamma's nurse, you know.
Sometimes I get so tired of doing the same things day after day, and I
long to go out and play tennis, like other girls. But that is not the
worst'--and here poor Mollie looked ready to cry; 'do you mind if I tell
you, Miss Ross? I seem talking so much about myself, and I am so afraid
of wearying you.'

'No, dear; you may tell me anything you like--about yourself, I mean,'
corrected Audrey hastily.

'Yes, I know what you mean, and it will make me so comfortable to talk
it all out--and I have only Kester, you know. I am so afraid, and Kester
is afraid, too, that with all this rough work I shall never be as
ladylike as mamma. She has such beautiful manners, and, then, have you
noticed her hands, Miss Ross? they are so white and pretty; and look at
mine!' and Mollie thrust out a brown, roughened little hand for
inspection.

'You have a pretty hand, too, Mollie, though it is not quite soft at
present; but if I were you, I should be proud to think that it was hard
with good honest work for others.'

'Yes, if only Cyril would not notice it; he told me one day that no
young lady ought to have hands like a kitchenmaid. Mamma heard him say
it, and she begged me to use glycerine and sleep in gloves, but I could
not do such things. I am afraid you think me very complaining, Miss
Ross, but I have not got to the worst trouble of all, and that is--that
I have so little time for my lessons.'

'Oh, I was going to ask you about that.'

'I fret about it dreadfully sometimes, and then Kester is so sorry for
me. He does all he can for me, poor boy! but sometimes on a hot
afternoon I am too sleepy and stupid to do my sums and Lat