unding
sallowness. She held herself better, had learned to keep her hair in
order, and the more womanly dress, plain though it was, improved her
figure more than could have been hoped in the days of her lank,
gawky girlhood. No one could call her pretty, but her countenance
had something more than ever pleasing in the animated and thoughtful
expression on those marked features. She was sitting near the window,
with a book, a dictionary, and pencil, as she replied to Margaret, with
the sigh that made her sister smile.

"Poor Ethel! I condole with you."

"And I wonder at you!" said Ethel, "especially as Flora and Mrs. Hoxton
say it is all for your sake;" then, nettled by Margaret's laugh, "Such a
nice occupation for her, poor thing, as if you were Mrs. Hoxton, and had
no resource but fancy-work."

"You know I am base enough to be so amused," said Margaret; "but,
seriously, Ethel dear, I cannot bear to see you so much hurt by it. I
did not know you were really grieved."

"Grieved! I am ashamed--sickened!" cried Ethel vehemently. "Poor
Cocksmoor! As soon as anything is done there, Flora must needs go
about implying that we have set some grand work in hand, and want only
means--"

"Stop, Ethel; Flora does not boast."

"No, she does not boast. I wish she did! That would be straightforward
and simple; but she has too good taste for that--so she does worse--she
tells a little, and makes that go a long way, as if she were keeping
back a great deal! You don't know how furious it makes me!"

"Ethel!"

"So," said Ethel, disregarding, "she stirs up all Stoneborough to hear
what the Miss Mays are doing at Cocksmoor. So the Ladies' Committee must
needs have their finger in! Much they cared for the place when it was
wild and neglected! But they go to inspect Cherry and her school--Mrs.
Ledwich and all--and, back they come, shocked--no system, no order, the
mistress untrained, the school too small, with no apparatus! They all
run about in despair, as if we had ever asked them to help us. And so
Mrs. Hoxton, who cares for poor children no more than for puppy-dogs,
but who can't live without useless work, and has filled her house as
full of it as it can hold, devises a bazaar--a field for her trumpery,
and a show-off for all the young ladies; and Flora treats it like an
inspiration! Off they trot, to the old Assembly Rooms. I trusted that
the smallness of them would have knocked it on the head; but, still
worse, Flora's talking