by so doing.

Nothing satisfactory! What could that imply? Phoebe expected soon to
hear something positive, for Bertha's teeth required a visit to London,
and Miss Fennimore was to take her to Lady Bannerman's for a week, during
which the governess would be with some relations of her own.

Phoebe talked of the snugness of being alone with her mother and Maria,
and she succeeded in keeping both pleased with one another. The sisters
walked in the park, and brought home primroses and periwinkles, which
their mother tenderly handled, naming the copses they came from, well
known to her in childhood, though since her marriage she had been too
grand to be allowed the sight of a wild periwinkle. In the evening
Phoebe gave them music, sang infant-school hymns with Maria, tried to
teach her piquet; and perceived the difference that the absence of
Bertha's teasing made in the poor girl's temper. All was very quiet, but
when good night was said, Phoebe felt wearied out, and chid herself for
her accesses of yawning, nay, she was shocked at her feeling of
disappointment and tedium when the return of the travellers was delayed
for a couple of days.

When at length they came, the variety brightened even Mrs. Fulmort, and
she was almost loquacious about some mourning pocket-handkerchiefs with
chess-board borders, that they were to bring. The girls all drank tea
with her, Bertha pouring out a whole flood of chatter in unrestraint, for
she regarded her mother as nobody, and loved to astonish her sisters, so
on she went, a slight hitch in her speech giving a sort of piquancy to
her manner.

She had dined late every day, she had ridden with Sir Bevil in the Park,
her curly hair had been thought to be _crepe_, she had drunk champagne,
she would have gone to the Opera, but the Actons were particular, and
said it was too soon--so tiresome, one couldn't do anything for this
mourning. Phoebe, in an admonitory tone, suggested that she had seen the
British Museum.

'Oh yes, I have it all in my note-book. Only imagine, Phoebe, Sir
Nicholas had been at Athens, and knew nothing about the Parthenon! And,
gourmet as he is, and so long in the Mediterranean, he had no idea
whether the Spartan black broth was made with sepia.'

'My dear,' began her mother, 'young ladies do not talk learning in
society.'

'Such a simple thing as this, mamma, every one must know. But they are
all so unintellectual! Not a book about the Bannermans' house e