e
here. And I certainly did not know you,' remarked Sarah abruptly.

'How am I changed? I feel just the same,' said Horatia, stopping short
and facing Sarah. 'Didn't I always laugh and make jokes at school?
Where's the difference?'

Sarah did not reply directly, for it was difficult to explain what she
meant. 'I did not say you were changed. I said I did not know you, and I
don't now. Why are you so nice to my father?' she suddenly demanded.

'I've a good mind to ask you why you are so nasty to him,' retorted
Horatia; 'but I won't, because I don't want to know. And as for my being
nice to him; you don't generally go and stay in people's houses, and then
be rude or disagreeable to them. Besides'----and here Horatia stopped.

'Besides what?' asked Sarah.

'Besides, it's time to go and dress for dinner. I shall feel quite dull
and unimportant when I go home and have to be a schoolgirl again; no
dressing for dinner, and no dinner to dress for, only schoolroom supper,
and it all depends upon cook's temper whether we get anything very nice
or not,' laughed Horatia.

As Horatia evidently did not intend to answer her question, Sarah said no
more on the subject; but she wondered very much what Horatia meant to
say. Sarah knew quite well she had not meant to say, 'Besides, it is
dinner-time.' Perhaps it was as well Horatia had stopped before she added
that she was 'sorry for Mr Clay.' 'Because,' she observed to herself,
'she would have wanted to know why I was sorry for such a rich man, and I
really could not have told her. And, besides, Sarah is so proud that she
would hate to be pitied.'

Sarah walked thoughtfully to her room, and there, instead of dressing for
dinner, she threw herself down in her favourite place, the broad
window-seat that looked towards Ousebank, her chin resting on the two
palms of her hands. 'Why am I so nasty to him?' she muttered to herself.
'Why is every one nasty to him? At least, I don't know that we are any of
us nasty--he wouldn't let us; but we are not "nice," like Horatia.' Sarah
did not attempt to answer this question; she sat there staring out over
Ousebank, and asked herself why she could not be 'nice' to her father if
Horatia could.

Naomi came to the door twice and knocked, and the second time she
ventured to open it; but, seeing Sarah, as she thought, looking cross and
staring out of the window, she went away again without daring to
interrupt her. But as time went on and no call cam