"Ay, that's so," agreed the hostess; "but I think Master Christopher's
looks are the right sort; such a nice colour as he's got, too!"

"That comes from him being so fair complexioned--it's no sign of
health," persisted Mrs. Hankey; "in fact, I mistrust those fair
complexions, especially in lads of his age. Why, he ought to be as brown
as a berry, instead of pink and white like a girl."

"It would look hideous to have a brown face with such yellow hair as
mine," said Christopher, who naturally resented being compared to a
girl.

"Master Christopher, don't call anything that the Lord has made hideous.
We must all be as He has formed us, however that may be," replied Mrs.
Hankey reprovingly; "and it is not our place to pass remarks upon what
He has done for the best."

"But the Lord didn't make him with a brown face and yellow hair; that's
just the point," interrupted Elisabeth, who regarded the bullying of
Christopher as her own prerogative, and allowed no one else to indulge
in that sport unpunished.

"No, my love; that's true enough," Mrs. Bateson said soothingly: "a
truer word than that never was spoken. But I wish you could borrow some
of Master Christopher's roses--I do, indeed. For my part, I like to see
little girls with a bit of colour in their cheeks; it looks more
cheerful-like, as you might say; and looks go a long way with some
folks, though a meek and quiet spirit is better, taking it all round."

"Now Miss Elisabeth does look delicate, and no mistake," assented Mrs.
Hankey; "she grows too fast for her strength, I'll be bound; and her
poor mother died young, you know, so it is in the family."

Christopher looked at Elisabeth with the quick sympathy of a sensitive
nature. He thought it would frighten her to hear Mrs. Hankey talk in
that way, and he felt that he hated Mrs. Hankey for frightening
Elisabeth.

But Elisabeth was made after a different pattern, and was not in the
least upset by Mrs. Hankey's gloomy forebodings. She was essentially
dramatic; and, unconsciously, her first object was to attract notice.
She would have preferred to do this by means of unsurpassed beauty or
unequalled talent; but, failing these aids to distinction, an early
death-bed was an advertisement not to be despised. In her mind's eye she
saw a touching account of her short life in Early Days, winding up with
a heart-rending description of its premature close; and her mind's eye
gloated over the sight.

The hostess