pper hand of her again. She knew she was being mean and unkind, and
it added to her vexation; but she had not the strength of will to get the
better of it. In her calmer moments she longed to be one of those who
could rise above such mean jealousies, and be unselfish and brave and
strong, but when the trial came she succumbed.

Penelope was too lost in happy dreams, though, to heed or be hurt by
Esther's remarks.

"Of course I can't have it trained, but all the same I _am_ glad I have a
nice voice," she said in a happy, dreamy voice. "Fancy me, _me_, with a
beautiful voice! Isn't it strange? Doesn't it seem as though it can't be
true? Oh, I _am_ so happy!"

"I always loved to hear you sing, dear," said Angela, seating herself on
the ground at Penelope's feet and hugging her sister's knees.
"And, Pen, just imagine if you could have lessons, and could sing at
concerts, and everybody wanted to hear you, and you made lots and lots of
money--wouldn't it be _lovely_! Esther, come and sit down and talk about
what we would do if Pen were famous and made a heap of money."
Angela never doubted that what good fortune came to one would be shared by
all. "Come and sit here, Esther."

"It will be Penelope's money," said Esther coldly. "It would be for her
to say what she would do with it, not for us. I am busy; I can't stay
talking nonsense," and away she walked out of the room, leaving Penelope
and Angela with their spirits considerably lowered.

"I don't know why it is," sighed Penelope, roused at last from her happy
oblivion, "but whenever I bring home what I think is good news it always
seems to upset Esther. I thought she was just dying for us all to be able
to do something to help father and Cousin Charlotte, and this seemed such
a lovely thing! Of course there is all the expense first, but _if_ I have
a really good voice, later on I should be able to keep you all, and give
you all you want. I think she might have seemed a little bit glad."

"Perhaps she is worried," said Angela, "because she wants you to have
lessons, and there isn't any money for them, and--and I think she is
tired."

"I wish she would not do so much and get so tired," said Penelope
wistfully. "We scarcely ever see her now; she hardly ever has any time to
play, and--and it is disappointing when she acts like that." Penelope's
voice quavered a little, in spite of herself, and she rose and looked out
of window that Angela might not see her