tainly shrinks. It has not escaped the notice of the visitor
that_ MISS PHOEBE _has become the more timid of the sisters, and she
has evolved an explanation._)

MISS WILLOUGHBY. Phoebe, has Captain Brown been apprised of Miss
Livvy's illness?

PHOEBE (_uncomfortably_). I think not, Miss Willoughby.

MISS WILLOUGHBY (_sorry for_ PHOEBE, _and speaking very kindly_). Is
this right, Phoebe? You informed Fanny and Henrietta at the ball of
his partiality for Livvy. My dear, it is hard for you, but have you
any right to keep them apart?

PHOEBE (_discovering only now what are the suspicions of her friends_).
Is that what you think I am doing, Miss Willoughby?

MISS WILLOUGHBY. Such a mysterious illness. (_Sweetly_) Long ago,
Phoebe, I once caused much unhappiness through foolish jealousy. That
is why I venture to hope that you will not be as I was, my dear.

PHOEBE. I jealous of Livvy!

MISS WILLOUGHBY (_with a sigh_). I thought as little of the lady I
refer to, but he thought otherwise.

PHOEBE. Indeed, Miss Willoughby, you wrong me.

(_But_ MISS WILLOUGHBY _does not entirely believe her, and there is a
pause, so long a pause that unfortunately_ MISS SUSAN _thinks she has
left the house._)

MISS SUSAN (_peeping in_). Is she gone?

MISS WILLOUGHBY (_hurt_). No, Susan, but I am going.

MISS SUSAN (_distressed_). Mary!

(_She follows her out, but_ MISS WILLOUGHBY _will not be comforted, and
there is a coldness between them for the rest of the day_. MISS SUSAN
_is not so abashed as she ought to be. She returns, and partakes with
avidity of the arrowroot._)

MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, I am well aware that this is wrong of me, but
Mary's arrowroot is so delicious. The ladies'-fingers and
petticoat-tails those officers sent to Livvy, I ate them also! (_Once
on a time this would have amused_ MISS PHOEBE, _but her sense of humour
has gone. She is crying._) Phoebe, if you have such remorse you will
weep yourself to death.

PHOEBE. Oh, sister, were it not for you, how gladly would I go into a
decline.

MISS SUSAN (_after she has soothed_ PHOEBE _a little_). My dear, what
is to be done about her? We cannot have her supposed to be here for
ever.

PHOEBE. We had to pretend that she was ill to keep her out of sight;
and now we cannot say she has gone away, for the Miss Willoughby's
windows command our door, and they are always watching.

MISS SUSAN (_peeping from the window_). I see Fanny watchin