self. 'But really, there are so many sad things in the world, one
would wear one's self out with being sorry for everybody.'

'How did you know about it?' Frances repeated.

'I heard something a good while ago from Honor Falmouth; don't you
remember?' said Jacinth. 'And last week she told me more, only she said
they didn't want any fuss made about it. She heard it from friends. But
Frances, do try and cheer up. You've been as kind--at least as
affectionate--as you could be to the Harpers. We hadn't it in our power
to ask them here or anything like that. I'm sure you tried to get Aunt
Alison to ask them, over and over again. And you won't do them any good
by crying about their troubles, you know, dear. Perhaps they may come
back to school some time or other, even if they're away next term.'

'Thank you, dear Jass,' said Frances, wiping her eyes. 'You're very
kind. I'll try and not be dull.'

She would perhaps have been less grateful for Jacinth's sympathy had she
understood the relief it was to her sister, notwithstanding her genuine
pity for them, to know that the Harpers were not likely to be associated
with them any more. Their presence at Ivy Lodge, ever since the
acquaintance with Lady Myrtle--more especially since Jacinth herself had
become fully informed as to the whole history--had been a perpetual
irritation and almost a reproach to her. And the pertinacity with which
she repeated to herself that it was not her business to take up the
cudgels in the Harpers' behalf, of itself suggested a weak point
somewhere--a touch of the self-excusing which tries to whiten over the
unacknowledged self-blame.

_Now_, Jacinth could afford to let herself feel sorry for Bessie and
Margaret and their family--could even picture to herself ways in which
some day, in some vague future, she and Frances might show kindness to
their former school-fellows.

'If I were rich,' thought Jacinth, 'they're just the sort of people I'd
love to be good to; of course one would have to do it very carefully, so
as not to offend them.'

Frances was still looking somewhat lugubrious when the door opened and
Miss Mildmay senior came in. It was not very often that their aunt paid
the girls a visit in their own little sitting-room, and they both looked
up with some curiosity.

'I had a letter from Lady Myrtle this morning,' she said. 'I did not
want to speak about it before Eugene'--for Eugene had lately been
promoted to breakfast down-stairs--'