terflies, foreign stamps, and picture post cards, and
play endless games of draughts, halma, or bagatelle.

"You slave after those boys as if you were their nursery governess!"
remarked Lilias one day, just a little nettled that Clifford ran
instinctively to Carmel for sympathy instead of to his sister. "I
promised to help them with those caterpillar boxes to-morrow, and so I
will, if you'll leave them. I really can't be bothered to-day."

Carmel yielded instantly. Part of her intense charm was the ready tact
with which she was careful never to usurp the place of any one else. She
put aside the muslin that was to form covers for the boxes, and slipped
her scissors back into the case.

Clifford, however, who was a budding naturalist, and most keen on
collecting, was highly disgusted.

"I want my boxes to-day!" he wailed. "I've no place to put my
caterpillars when I find them. They crawl out of the old boxes. Why
shouldn't Carmel make me some? I know hers would be beauties."

"Lilias will make you some nicer ones to-morrow," urged his cousin.
"Suppose we take our butterfly nets on to the heath to-day, and try to
find some 'blues.' You haven't a really nice specimen, you know. And I
think we might find some moths on the trees in the wood, if we look
about carefully. It's worth trying, isn't it?"

"Oh yes! Do let us! Shall we start now?" agreed Clifford, much
mollified.

On the whole the three girls got along excellently, but if there was any
hint at disturbance it generally arose from Lilias, whose pride would
be up in arms at the most absurd trifles. She was annoyed that Carmel
was asked to give away the prizes at the village sports, and showed her
dissatisfaction so plainly that her sweet-tempered cousin, rather than
have any fuss, solved the situation by asking Cousin Clare to perform
the ceremony instead, considerably to the disappointment of the
committee, who had thought the new heiress was the appropriate
patroness.

Lilias and Dulcie took diametrically opposite views about the Chase. The
former stuck firmly to her opinion that it ought to have been Everard's,
that her brother was an ill-used outcast, and that it was only sisterly
feeling to resent seeing anybody else in his place. Her attitude to
Carmel was almost as strong as that of King Robert of Sicily in
Longfellow's _Tales of a Wayside Inn_ towards the angel who had
temporarily usurped his throne.

Dulcie, on the contrary, had always chafed against