t was not a cheerful house; and as an hour later she tried to enliven
the solemn dinner-table, expecting as usual to meet with no response,
but grumbles from Grace and chilling indifference on the part of her
mother, she was surprised by Mrs. Fairfax's efforts to take part in the
conversation.

'That child is an original character,' she observed. 'Do you know who
they are, Nesta?'

'Yes, Mr. Crump was telling me the other day; their father is the
Member for Stonycroft, and their mother that Mrs. Stuart who is so busy
in philanthropical objects in town. She was one of the Miss Champneys,
the clever Miss Champneys, as we used to call them. I think the
children must inherit the talents of their parents, for though they are
regular little pickles for mischief, they are all original in their
way. Betty thinks the most, I should say, the others seem to live in
dreamland half their time. I came across the other girl and boy in an
old willow tree the other day. I spoke to them, but was hushed up at
once by the boy, who put his fair curly head out of the branches, and
said, "You're not to speak to us just now; we're hiding from the Queen
of the Brook! she comes dashing down in foam, she's so angry with us;
and if she splashes us we shall be turned into black dogs, and have to
go on all fours till dinner time!" I laughed and left them. I don't
altogether envy their nurse!'

'Betty is not enough of a child,' Mrs. Fairfax said; 'some of her
sayings are quite uncanny.'

'Do you think so? She has plenty of life and spirits. But she is a
child of intense feeling. I am afraid she will suffer for it as she
grows older. Yesterday I came upon her outside the churchyard crying,
as if her heart would break, over a dead frog. I tried to comfort her.
"Oh," she sobbed; "I'm so afraid Prince has killed it. I didn't see
him, but he may have; and he doesn't look a bit sorry. What shall I do
if he grows up a murderer!"'

Mrs. Fairfax would have thought Betty a stranger child still, if she
could have seen her that evening tossing in her little bed.

Molly was fast asleep; nurse had left the room, and all was quiet; but
Betty was going over in her busy little mind the events of the past
day. At last she stretched out her hand to Prince in his basket.

'She said you had no soul, Prince; I wonder if you haven't! I wish
you'd say prayers to God; I'm sure God will give you a soul, if you
ought to have one! Prince, wake up!'