ice, harmless little thing; though why
Edna took such a fancy to her rather puzzles me. I thought she would
take after her father, but I can see no likeness. What a handsome fellow
he was--poor Herbert!--and so gentlemanly." And here Mrs. Sefton sighed;
for to her it was always a perilous thing to recall the past. No woman
had ever been so foolish as she; she had cast away gold for dross.

While her hostess was indulging in these heavy reflections, Bessie was
uttering little staccato exclamations of delight at the sight of the
room allotted her.

"What a lovely view!" she had observed, running to the window, for not
only was the pretty shady garden to be seen, but some meadows, and a
glimpse of a fir wood in the distance; and it all looked so cool and
still, and the only objects of moving life were some white lambs feeding
by their mothers, and a pretty brown foal with its dam.

"Do you think you will like your room?" asked Edna demurely; but there
was a gleam of fun in her eyes as she put the question, for she had a
vivid remembrance of Bessie's room at home; the strips of faded carpet,
the little iron bedstead, and painted drawers; and yet it had been a
haven of rest to her that night, and she had slept very sweetly on the
little hard bed.

"It is far too grand for me," returned Bessie candidly. "I shall feel
like a fine lady for the first time in my life." And she looked round
her with admiring scrutiny, noting every detail--the wax candles and
hot-house flowers on the toilet-table, the handsome wardrobe and
cheval-glass, the writing-table with its dainty appendages, and the
cosy-looking couch; even the brass bedstead, with its blue cretonne
hangings, and frilled pillow-cases, demanded some fresh comment.

"I think it is a lovely room, and far too good for me," finished Bessie.

"All our rooms are very comfortable," was the careless response; "but
one is too used to this sort of thing to notice it. Now shall I send
Brandon to help you? She is our maid, and understands hair-dressing
perfectly. She will help you unpack and arrange your things."

"Oh, no, thank you!" returned Bessie, in such an alarmed voice that Miss
Sefton laughed; and then she continued, in rather a shamefaced manner:
"You see I am not like you, Miss Sefton. I have not been used to
luxuries and being waited on; we are plain people, and wait on
ourselves."

"Just as you like," was the indifferent answer. "Brandon is the comfort
of my life, th