th, hastily, as if
afraid of her aunt thinking him babyish.

'Yes, of course,' agreed Miss Mildmay. 'I cannot promise you that you
will find everything here the same as at your poor grandmother's. You
always called her your grandmother, I suppose,' she went on, turning to
Jacinth, 'though she was not really any blood relation.'

The girl's lip quivered, but she controlled herself. 'We--we never
thought about that,' she said. 'And then, of course, she was Uncle
Manny's own mother, and we are so _very_ fond of him.'

'Ah! he seems a nice young fellow, but so very young, and Mrs Denison
was quite elderly. But she was more than middle-aged when she married,
of course,' said Miss Mildmay.

There was a slight, almost indescribable tone of condescension or
disparagement in her voice, the reason of which I will explain. Both the
girls were conscious of it, but it affected them in different ways.

'Ye--es,' began Jacinth, hesitatingly, 'I know'----

But Frances here broke in eagerly.

'You are not explaining it properly to Aunt Alison, Jacinth. You know
you're not. It wasn't only or principally for Uncle Marmy's sake that we
loved dear granny. She was as sweet and good to us as she could be, and
I'd have loved her awfully if she hadn't been--been any relation--at
all;' but here the little girl ignominiously burst into tears.

Miss Mildmay the elder glanced at her with scant sympathy.

'I suppose she is over-tired, poor child,' she said to Jacinth. 'I will
leave you to take off your things. Come down as soon as you can; you
will feel better when you have had something to eat;' and she turned to
go. They were standing in the girls' own room. But at the door she
paused a moment. 'Shall I send up Phebe?' she said. 'That is the young
girl I have engaged to wait upon you three. No, perhaps,' as her eyes
fell on the still weeping Frances, 'it would be better to wait a little.
Just take off your outdoor things. The trunks will be brought up while
we are at tea, and then Phebe can begin to unpack.'

She was scarcely out of hearing when Jacinth turned upon her sister.
'I'm ashamed of you, Frances,' she said. 'Crying and sobbing like that,
when you can see Aunt Alison isn't the sort of person to have any
patience with silliness! Such a beginning to have made! And it isn't as
if it was really about--about poor granny.' Here it must be owned her
voice faltered. 'It was just that you were vexed with me.'

'Well, and if I was,' rep