them, though in her own house she was shrewd in practical
matters, and though not strong was a useful active assistant to her
mother whenever there was no danger of her being detected in doing
anything derogatory to one so nearly connected with the peerage.

Indeed, she seemed to regard her sister's dutiful studies as proofs of
dulness and want of spirit. She was quite angry when Constance objected
to _The Unconscious Impostor_,--very yellow, with a truculent flaming
design outside--that 'she did not think she ought to read that kind of
book--Aunt Mary would not like it.'

'Well, if I would be in bondage to an old governess! You are not such a
child now.'

'Don't, Ida. Uncle Frank would not like it either.'

'Perhaps not,' said Ida, with an ugly, meaning laugh as she glanced again
at the title.

Constance might really have liked to read more tales than she allowed
herself. _The House on the Marsh_ tempted her, but she was true to the
advice she had received, and Rose Rollstone upheld her in her resolution.

Ida thought it rather 'low' in Herbert and Constance to care for the old
butler's daughter, but their mother had a warm spot in the bottom of her
heart, and liked a gossip with Mrs. Rollstone too much to forbid the
house to her daughter, besides that she shrank from inflicting on her so
much distress.

So during the fortnight that Rose spent at home the girls were together
most of the morning. After Constance, well wrapped up, had practised in
the cold drawing-room, where economy forbade fires till the afternoon,
she sped across to Rose in the little stuffy parlour where Mr. Rollstone
liked to doze over his newspaper to the lullaby of their low-voiced
chatter. Often they walked together, and were sometimes joined by
Herbert, who on these occasions always showed that he knew how to behave
like a gentleman.

Herbert was faithfully keeping his promise not to bet, though, as he
observed, he had not expected to be in for it so long. But it was
satisfactory to hear that his present fellow-pupils did not go in for
that sort of thing, and Constance felt sure that her uncle and aunt would
be pleased with him and think him much improved.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE REVENGE OF SORDID SPIRITS

'I am quite convinced,' said Ida Morton, 'it is quite plain why we are
not invited.'

'My dear, you see what your aunt says; that Mrs. Bury's daughter's
husband is ordered to India, and that having the whole family to s