Hilda, you make too great a fuss about that little sister of
yours--I feel almost jealous of her."

CHAPTER IX.

STARVED.

If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
And be all to me? Shall I never miss
Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss?

--E. BARRETT BROWNING.

In the first pleasant spring-time of that same year, Mrs. Anstruther, a
very gay and fashionable-looking woman of between forty and fifty years
of age, turned on a certain morning to her daughter and made a remark:

"Don't forget that we must pay some calls this afternoon, Mildred."

Mildred was standing by the window of their beautiful drawing room. The
window-boxes had just been filled with lovely spring flowers; she was
bending over them and with deft fingers arranging the blossoms and
making certain small alterations, which had the effect of grouping the
different masses of color more artistically than the gardener had done.

"Yes, mother," she said, half turning her handsome head and glancing
back at her parent. "We are to make calls. I am quite agreeable."

"I wish you would take an interest, Mildred; it is so unpleasant going
about with people who are only just 'quite agreeable.' Now, when I was a
young girl----"

"Oh, please, mother, don't! The times have completely changed since you
were young; enthusiasm has gone out of fashion. I am nothing if I am not
fashionable! Of course, if calls have to be made, I shall make them.
I'll put on my most becoming bonnet, and my prettiest costume, and I'll
sit in the carriage by your side, and enter the houses of those friends
who happen to be at home, and I'll smile and look agreeable, and people
will say, 'What an amiable woman Miss Anstruther is!' I'll do the
correct thing of _course_, only I suppose it is not necessary for my
heart to go pitter-patter over it. By the way, have you made out a list
of the unfortunates who are to be victimized by our presence this
afternoon?"

Mrs. Anstruther sighed, and gazed in some discontent at her daughter.

"It is so disagreeable not to understand people," she said. "I don't
profess to understand you, Mildred. If you will give me my visiting-book
I can soon tell you the places where we ought to go. And oh, by the way,
should we not call on Hilda Quentyns? she has taken a house somewhere in
West Kensington."

"You don't mean to tell me that the Quentyns are in town?" said
Mildred, turning sharply round and gazing