er friend were both grown up into young ladies.
Many letters had passed between the sisters, but it was so long since
they had seen one another that each felt a little shy at the meeting.

Evelyn was very lovely, made to please and be pleased, a regular
mid-Victorian heroine, universally courted. Though always courted she
was never spoilt, and was a most affectionate sister and daughter. But
the old particular bond which had attached her and Henrietta no longer
existed. She was equally affectionate to Minna and Louie.

Still, her coming made a great difference to Henrietta. There was a
person of her own generation and way of thinking to converse with; they
could have jokes together, and Evelyn was still full of schoolgirl
enthusiasm. She had numberless schemes of occupation, duets, French
readings, and splashwork. And when she went away on visits, there were
her letters, much more intimate than those of a year or two earlier,
full of allusions to their new occupations, and teasing of a kind,
complimentary sort, which was new and very delightful to Henrietta.

They were arranging flowers in the school-room one afternoon, roses
which had been brought to Evelyn by an admirer. They dropped some on the
floor, both stooped to pick them up, and they knocked their heads
together. Evelyn got up laughing, but felt her hand suddenly snatched,
and kissed with a long, eager kiss. She turned round, startled. "What is
it?" she said.

"I couldn't help it," said Henrietta, half hysterically. "If you knew
what it is to me to have you back. I can't tell you."

"Is it, dear?" said Evelyn. "I'm so glad." And she smoothed Henrietta's
forehead with a pretty gesture full of sweetness, but with a touch of
condescension in it. She had listened already to so many passionate
declarations about herself (one that very afternoon) that she was not so
much impressed by Henrietta's as most younger sisters would have been.
Still she could not help contrasting herself in her triumphant youth
with Henrietta, disregarded by everyone and snubbed. Mr. and Mrs. Symons
never snubbed Evelyn, and she thought for a moment, "Oh, I'm thankful
I'm not her"; but she put the thought away as unkind, and supposed
vaguely that Henrietta was so good she did not mind.

Now that Evelyn was come back, Mrs. Symons roused herself from her
invalidism to provide amusements for her. So little was possible at home
that almost at once a round of gay visits was arranged. Minna w