d, for Dickie had disgraced herself at her very first
introduction. Seeing Miss Unity's grim face framed by the nodding
bonnet bending down to kiss her, the child looked up and said with a
sweet smile, "Ugly lady!"

There was no disguising it, for Dickie's utterance had the clearness of
a bell, and a horrified silence fell on the assembly.

"Don't be naughty, Dickie," said Mrs Hawthorn reprovingly; "say, `How
do you do?' directly."

But Miss Unity had straightened herself up and turned away with an odd
look in her eyes.

"Don't scold the child, Mary," she said; "she's not naughty, she's only
honest."

From that time Pennie never considered Miss Unity quite ugly, and indeed
her features were not so much ugly as rugged and immovable. When her
feelings were stirred she was not ugly at all; for they were good, kind
feelings, and made her whole face look pleasant. So little happened in
her life, however, that they generally remained shut up as in a sort of
prison, and were seldom called forth; people, therefore, who did not
know her often thought her cross. But Miss Unity was not cross--she was
only lonely and dull because she had so little to love. Nothing could
have passed off better than the Hawthorns' visit on this particular
occasion, and indeed when David was with her Mrs Hawthorn never feared
the unlucky accidents which were apt to occur with the other children.
He was so deliberate and careful by nature that there was no risk of his
knocking down the china, or treading on the cat's tail, or on the train
of Miss Unity's gown. Nancy did all these things frequently, however
hard she tried to be good, and was, besides, very restive under reproof
and ready to answer pertly.

On the whole Miss Unity liked to have the grave little David with her
better than the other children, though she sometimes felt when she found
his solemn and disapproving gaze fixed upon her. David on his side had
his opinions, though he said little, and he had long ago made up his
mind that he did not like Miss Unity at all. So he was sorry to find,
when the day came for leaving Nearminster, that she was going back to
Easney with them instead of making her visit later in the year. It
would not be nearly as pleasant as driving alone with his father and
mother, he thought; for now he could not ask questions on the way,
unless he talked to Andrew, and he was always so silent.

When the wagonette came round there were so many little pack