t I am with you. Oh, yes, I should
like to come into your bed."

"Then you shall come at once," said Irene.

She lifted the little girl out. She herself felt quite old and motherly
beside the little one. During the remainder of the night they slept in
each other's arms, and much of the hardness and the wildness of Irene's
nature melted away during that sleep, and some of that motherhood which
is the most blessed gift God can give to a girl visited her.

She herself insisted on helping Agnes to dress in the morning, and then
they went down to breakfast hand in hand.

CHAPTER XX.

A SORT OF WITCH.

Hughie was a dictatorial, troublesome sort of boy; but Rosamund took him
in hand from the first, and kept him somewhat in order. Miss Frost,
looking very patient, followed her brother and sister and Irene about.
Once little Agnes was all alone in a bower, where she was waiting for
Irene to come to her. This was Rosamund's opportunity. She went straight
up to the child, took one of her hands, and sat down near her.

"I am so glad, Agnes," she said, "that you love Irene. But now I want to
say something to you."

"I love you, too," said little Agnes, who was the gentlest and most
affectionate creature under the sun.

"And don't you love your own dear sister Emily?"

"Oh, of course I do! I love her very much indeed."

"Then I wish you would go and tell her so, for she is sitting not far
away crying very bitterly."

"Crying?" said little Agnes.

"Yes--because you haven't been with her at all to-day, and hardly
yesterday; she can't make out what it means, and it troubles her a good
deal. Do go and put your arms round her neck, and tell her that although
you love Irene, you can never love any one like you do her."

"But I think," said little Agnes, who was the soul of truth, "that I do
love Irene quite as much as I love Emily."

"Then you oughtn't to, for Miss Frost is your own sister, and she has
done so much for you--far more than you can in the least understand at
present."

"Anyhow, I do love her very much, and I'll tell her so," said the little
girl.

She flew away from Rosamund, who sat down on the seat which Agnes had
occupied. She had not been there more than a minute or two before Irene,
carrying a basket of fruit in her hand, entered in great excitement.

"Where is Agnes? Where is my dear little pet? Oh, you are there,
Rosamund!"

"Yes, Irene, and I hope you are glad to see me."

"Of course