eemed to favour the visits to
Robin Redbreast--even milder than the Saturday of Jacinth's first stay
there. And this time, instead of the brougham, a large roomy pony
carriage came to fetch them, a spring cart having already called for
Jacinth's portmanteau that morning.

'How lovely!' said Frances, as she and Eugene took their seats with
great satisfaction opposite her sister and the coachman; 'I am so glad
it is an open carriage. I wish Lady Myrtle would send us home in it
again this evening: don't you, Eugene?'

'I'm sure her ladyship will be quite pleased to do so, miss, if you just
mention that you would like it,' said the man, a staid unexceptionable
old servant, though many years younger than Thornley.

'Oh well, I will. I may, mayn't I, Jass?' said Frances, her eyes
sparkling with pleasure, only damped by Jacinth's grave expression. Did
Jass think she was chattering too much already? High spirits were
Francie's native air: it was very difficult for her to be quiet and
subdued for long together. But Jacinth really loved to see Frances
happy, and she knew that Lady Myrtle would feel the same.

'She thinks her such a mere child,' thought the elder girl. So she
smiled reassuringly as she replied: 'Of course, dear, you can ask Lady
Myrtle. I am sure she won't mind if it keeps fine; and there is no sign
of rain, is there?' she said turning to the coachman.

'No indeed, ma'am,' he replied. 'We shall have no rain just yet a bit.'

'It's a _perfect_ day,' said Frances. 'I really sometimes think I like
autumn as well as spring.'

'I have always liked it much better,' said Jacinth calmly.

Lady Myrtle was walking up and down the terrace, waiting for them. She
was much better--for her, indeed, quite well--she said, and her face
lighted up with pleasure as she kissed Jacinth tenderly. Then she turned
to the younger ones and kissed them too.

'I must have a good look at you, Frances,' she said. 'No--you are not a
Moreland, and yet--yes, there is a slight _something_--in spite of your
blue eyes and shaggy hair,' and she patted Frances's head. 'And you, my
boy;' and she examined Eugene in his turn. 'His eyes are more like his
grandmother's; nothing approaching your eyes, Jacinth, but still they
are more of the colour.'

'Eugene is very like mamma,' said Frances eagerly. 'Everybody says so.'

'And I'm called after her,' added Eugene.

'So that's quite as it should be,' said Lady Myrtle. 'And some day I
hope I may h