t and the door was thrown open to disclose--a servant,
bearing a note upon a silver salver. It was not a governess after all!

The two girls came forward into the room, divided between relief and
disappointment.

Mrs Vanburgh tossed the note impatiently aside, and said resignedly--

"Ah, well, it gives us all the longer to prepare! I'll run into my room
and mend this horrid dress, and you might arrange these books of
photographs. They are really awfully interesting, and of almost every
country you can imagine. Old Mr Vanburgh collected them on his
travels, so you have only to find out which country interests your
special governess most, and--there you are! It will save no end of
exertion!"

She ran out of the room, and the two girls stood together, seized with a
sudden shyness at finding themselves alone.

"I--I think we know each other very well by sight," said Cynthia, and
Betty blushed and blinked, remembering the crowded schoolroom window and
her own scathing criticisms.

"Yes--I'm afraid we have stared a great deal. We are so interested in
our neighbours, but they are almost all old--you were the only young one
like ourselves. We were frightfully anxious to know all about you."

Cynthia gave a pathetic little sigh.

"There's so little to know! There's just mother and me--and father at
the other end of the world. It isn't half so exciting as having
brothers and sisters, and going to school, and having good times all
together. I have envied you so!"

"Me!" cried Betty, aghast. "You envied _me_! How extraordinary! I've
perfectly ached with envying you sometimes."

"Oh, why?" asked Cynthia; and as Betty looked into her wide earnest eyes
she felt of a sudden shamed and silenced. How could she acknowledge
that she had envied the greater luxury, the cosy fire in the bedroom,
the pink evening dress, the monopoly of attention, she who was so rich
in the dear human companionship which the other lacked!

"There are drawbacks to a large family, you know," she exclaimed. "We
don't _always_ have good times. Sometimes we all get cross together and
quarrel like cats, and then it feels as if it would be so nice and
peaceful to be the only one. You have no one to quarrel with."

"I have myself. I quarrel fearfully with myself," said Cynthia.

She perched herself on the arm of a high chair and stared at Betty with
her grave grey eyes. She wore an enamel buckle on her belt, a gold
bangle encircled her