ile, her aunt's
broken-off sentence. 'They are not--the Harpers, I mean--they are not at
all well off, and--a large family, I fancy,' Miss Mildmay went on.

'No,' said Frances in her clear young voice, rather to her hearers'
surprise, 'no, they are not _at all_ rich.'

Then she started, grew crimson, and looked round in affright: had she
said something she should not have said? A strange, silly, nervous
feeling came over her; as if she must, in another moment, burst into
tears.

'Frances,' said Jacinth, 'what are you looking so terrified about?
There's no harm in what you said. It's no secret; Aunt Alison said it
herself first.'

Her tone was not unkindly, though slightly sharp. But a look of relief
overspread her sister's face.

'No, of course not. I'm very silly,' she murmured.

'I think you must be a little over-tired,' said Miss Mildmay vaguely.
She had not specially noticed Frances's expression. 'I wonder,' she went
on, 'I wonder if those Harpers are any relation to the Elvedons? I
can't quite remember what Miss Scarlett said about them. It was their
mother she was interested in, though--not their father. If they were
Elvedon Harpers, Lady Myrtle would know about them; at least'----

'Harper isn't at all an uncommon name,' interrupted Jacinth.

But Miss Mildmay did not resent the little discourtesy--her mind was
pursuing its own train of thought. 'I don't know that it _would_ follow
that she could know anything of them,' she said. 'Some of the last
generation of Harpers were sadly unsatisfactory, and I believe the old
man, Lady Myrtle's father, disinherited one or more of his sons. So if
you ever go to Robin Redbreast, girls, I think it would be just as well
not to mention your school-fellows of the name.'

Jacinth shot a rather triumphant glance at her sister.

'It is generally better, and more well-bred, not to begin about "Are you
related to the so-and-so's?" or "I have friends of your name," and
remarks like that; isn't it, Aunt Alison?' she said. 'I was telling
Frances so, only yesterday.'

Frances reddened again.

'Well, yes,' said Miss Mildmay. 'Still, one cannot make a hard and fast
rule about such matters. It calls for a little tact.'

She was very inconsistent; who is not? Something in Jacinth's premature
wisdom--almost savouring of 'worldly' wisdom--rather repelled her,
careful and unimpulsive though she herself was. Then she felt annoyed
with her own annoyance: it was unjust to blame the