her introduction to this cheerful household, there
came a knock at the door, and she admitted Mrs. Heron. That lady was in
a soiled dressing-gown, bought at a sale and quite two sizes too large
for her, and with a nervous flush, she took from under this capacious
garment a small decanter of wine.

"I thought you might like a little, my dear," she said, as Ida eyed it
with astonishment. "Of course we are all total abstainers here, but we
keep a little in the house for medicinal purposes, unknown to John; and
it's a great comfort sometimes when you're tired and in low spirits.
Let me give you a glass."

Ida would have liked to have accepted it, and was sorry that her
refusal seemed to disappoint Mrs. Heron, who retired as nervously as
she had entered. A few minutes afterwards, before Ida had got over her
astonishment at the incident, there came another knock at the door, and
Isabel entered in a dressing-gown which was own sister to Mrs. Heron's.

"I thought there might be something you wanted," she said, her bold
eyes wandering over Ida curiously, and then roaming to the contents of
Ida's dressing-bag which glittered and shone on the dressing-table.

"What long hair you have! Do you brush it every night? I don't mine,
not every night; it's too much trouble. Are the tops of all those
things real silver? What a lot of money they must have cost! What a
pretty _peignoir_ you have on: is it real lace? Yes, I see it is. You
have nice things!" with an envious sigh. "Don't you ever have more
colour than you've got now? Or perhaps it's because you're tired. You
must be quite knocked up, when I come to think of it." She dropped her
voice and glanced round cautiously. "Would you like to have a little
brandy-and-water? I've got same in my room--of course the rest don't
know anything about it, father's teetotal mad--but I keep a little for
when I'm tired and down in the mouth; and when I run out I get some
from Joseph's room. Of course, he isn't a total abstainer. I daresay
you guessed that directly you saw him to-night, and weren't taken in by
his 'late at the office' business?"

Ida looked at her in amazement, and Isabel laughed knowingly.

"Joseph goes to the theatre and plays billiards," she said, with
sisterly candour. "He works it very cleverly; he's artful, Joseph is,
and he takes father and mother in nicely; but sometimes I find a
theatre programme in his pocket, and marks of chalk on his coat. Oh, I
don't blame him! The