quickly, and going over to the dressing-table
in the large, low-ceilinged room--a room which, in spite of the fact
that everything in it was old and worn, had yet an air of dainty charm
and dignity, for everything in it was what old-fashioned people call
"good"--she looked dispassionately at herself in the glass.

Her step-mother had said, "You haven't changed one bit!" But that was
not true. Of course she had changed--changed very much, outwardly and
inwardly, since she was nineteen. For one thing, the awful physical
strain of her work in France had altered her, turned her from a girl into
a woman. She had seen many terrible things, and she had met with certain
grim adventures she could never forget, which remained all the more vivid
because she had never spoken of them to a living being.

And then, as she suddenly told herself, with a rather bitter feeling of
revolt, the life she was leading now was not calculated to make her
retain a look of youth. Last week, in a fit of temper, Rosamund had said
to her:--"I only wish you could see yourself! You look a regular
'govvy'!" She had laughed--the rather spiteful words passing her by--for
she had never cared either for learning or teaching. But now, as she
gazed critically in her mirror, she told herself that, yes, she really
did look rather like a nice governess--the sort of young woman a certain
type of smart lady would describe as her "treasure". Forty or fifty years
ago that was the sort of human being into which she would have turned
almost automatically when poverty had first knocked at the door of Old
Place. Now, thank God, people who could afford to pay well for a
governess wanted a trained teacher, not an untrained gentlewoman for
their children.

But Betty did not waste much time staring at herself. Throwing her head
back with what had become a characteristic gesture, she went off and
called her sisters and brothers before running lightly down the back
stairs.

Nanna was already pottering about the kitchen. She had laid and lit the
fire, and put the kettle on to boil for Mrs. Tosswill's early cup of tea.
The old woman looked up as Betty came into the kitchen, and a rather
touching expression came over her old face. She had a strong, almost a
maternal affection for her eldest nurseling, and she wondered how Miss
Betty was feeling this morning. Nanna had been told of the coming visitor
by Timmy, but with that peculiar touch of delicacy so often found in her
clas