at home when they should come; and Meta, on
her side, was so unwilling to leave her father that, at last, Dr. May
scolded them both for a pair of conceited, self-important damsels, who
thought nothing could go on without them; and next, compared them to
young birds, obliged to be shoved by force into flying.

Meta consented first, on condition that Ethel would; and Ethel found
that her whole house would be greatly disappointed if she refused,
so she proceeded to be grateful, and then discovered how extremely
delightful the plan was. Oxford, of which she had heard so much, and
which she had always wished to see! And Norman's glory--and Meta's
company--nay, the very holiday, and going from home, were charms enough
for a girl of eighteen, who had never been beyond Whitford in her life.
Besides, to crown all, papa promised that, if his patients would behave
well, and not want him too much, he would come up for the one great day.

Mr. and Mrs. George Rivers came to Abbotstoke to collect their party.
They arrived by a railroad, whose station was nearer to Abbotstoke than
to Stoneborough, therefore, instead of their visiting the High Street
by the way, Dr. May, with Ethel and Mary, were invited to dine at the
Grange, the first evening--a proposal, at least, as new and exciting to
Mary as was the journey to Oxford to her sister.

The two girls went early, as the travellers had intended to arrive
before luncheon, and, though Ethel said few words, but let Mary rattle
on with a stream of conjectures and questions, her heart was full of
longings for her sister, as well as of strange doubts and fears, as to
the change that her new life might have made in her.

"There! there!" cried Mary. "Yes! it is Flora! Only she has her hair
done in a funny way!"

Flora and Meta were both standing on the steps before the conservatory,
and Mary made but one bound before she was hugging Flora. Ethel kissed
her without so much violence, and then saw that Flora was looking very
well and bright, more decidedly pretty and elegant than ever, and with
certainly no diminution of affection; it was warmer, though rather more
patronising.

"How natural you look!" was her first exclamation, as she held Mary's
hand, and drew Ethel's arm into hers. "And how is Margaret?"

"Pretty well-but the heat makes her languid--"

"Is there any letter yet?"

"No--"

"I do not see any cause for alarm--letters are so often detained, but,
of course, she will be a