with a delicious
pink-and-white smile of adieu. And Hilda had thought how different all
this was from Brighton, and how much better and more homely and
understandable. And now she was in the garden of the Orgreaves.

Martha came peeping, to discover the explanation of this singular
concourse of cabs in the garden, and she cried joyously:

"Oh, Miss Janet, it's Miss Hilda--Miss Lessways, I mean!"

Alicia shrieked. The first cab drew forward to make room for Hilda's,
and Hilda stepped down into the glare of the porch, and was plainly
beheld by all three girls.

"Will they notice anything?" she asked herself, self-conscious, almost
trembling, as she thought of the terrific changes that had passed in her
since her previous visit.

But nobody noticed anything. Nobody observed that this was not the same
Hilda. Even in the intimacy of the affectionate kiss, for which she
lifted her veil, Janet seemed to have no suspicion whatever.

"We were just off to Hillport," said Janet. "How splendid of you to come
like this!"

"Don't let's go to Hillport!" said Alicia.

Janet hesitated, pulling down her veil.

"Of course you must go!" Hilda said positively.

"I'm afraid we shall have to go," said Janet, with reluctance. "You see,
it's the Marrions--Edie's cousins--and Edie will be there!"

"Who's Edie?"

"Why! Tom's fiancee! Surely I told you!"

"Yes," said Hilda; "only I didn't just remember the name. How nice!"

(She thought: "No sooner do I get here than I talk like they do! Fancy
me saying, 'How nice'!")

"Oh, it's all Edie nowadays!" said Alicia lightly. "We have to be
frightfully particular, or else Tom would cut our heads off. That's why
we're going in a cab! We should have walked,--shouldn't we, Janet?--only
it would never do for us to _walk_ to the Marrions' at night! 'The
Misses Lessways' carriage!'" she mimicked, and finicked about on her
toes.

Janet was precisely the same as ever, but the pig-tailed Alicia had
developed. Her childishness was now shot through with gestures and tones
of the young girl. She flushed and paled continuously, and was acutely
self-conscious and somewhat vain, but not offensively vain.

"I say, Jan," she exclaimed, "why shouldn't Hilda come with us?"

"To the Marrions'? Oh no, thanks!" said Hilda.

"But do, Hilda! I'm sure they'd be delighted!" Janet urged. "I never
thought of it."

Though she was flattered and, indeed, a little startled by the
extraordinary seriousness of J