le up and
down' on her knees and emit shrill squeals of some pleasurable emotion
not defined. This, too, in spite of the fact that Dampney had picked up
the pillow and was advancing upon Miss Sara with an expression
calculated to shake the stoutest heart. It obviously shook the
visitor's. 'Listen, Sara! If you don't be quiet and let nurse cover you
up, she won't want me to stay.' Miss Levering actually got up off the
little boy's bed, and stood as though ready to carry the obnoxious
suggestion into instant effect.

Sara darted under the bedclothes like a rabbit into its burrow. The
rigid woman, without words, restored the tousled pillow to the head of
the bed, extracted Miss Sara from her hiding-place with one hand,
smoothed out the rebellious legs with the other, covered the child
firmly over, and tucked the bedclothes in.

'What's the use of all that? Mother always does it over again.'

'You know very well she's been and done it once already.'

'She's coming again if father doesn't need her.'

'There's a whole big dinner-party needing her, so you needn't think she
can come twice to say good-night to a Jumping-Jack like you.'

'You ought to say a Jumping-Jill,' amended Sara.

During this interchange Master Cecil was complaining to the visitor--

'I can't see you with that thing all round your head.'

'Yes, take it off!' his sister agreed; and when the lady had unwound her
lace scarf--'Now the coat! And you have to sit on my bed this time. It's
my turn.'

As the visitor divested herself of the long ermine-lined garment, 'Oh,
you _are_ pretty to-night!' observed the gallant young gentleman over
the way, seeming not to have heard that these effects don't appeal to
little boys.

Sara silently craned her neck. Even the high and mighty Mrs. Dampney, in
the surreptitious way of the superior servant, without seeming to look,
was covertly taking in the vision that the cloak had hitherto obscured.
The little girl followed with critical eyes the movement of the tall
figure, the graceful fall of the clinging black lace gown embroidered in
yellow irises, the easy bend of the small waist in its jewelled belt of
yellow. The growing approval in the little face culminated in an
ecstatic 'Oh-h-h! let me see what's on your neck! That's new, isn't it?'

'No--very old.'

'I didn't know there were yellow diamonds,' said Sara.

'There are; but these are sapphires.'

'And the little stones round?'

'Yes, they're diamonds.'