ally you are old enough to
know better'--and as Mollie only looked at her wonderingly--'oh, go
away!--you are a dear little soul; but you talk as though you were a
baby; no one is offended. If your brother is not well, why cannot you
leave him in peace? I don't think you understand that men never like to
be questioned about their ailments; they are not like women. Cornwall
certainly did not agree with him.'

'Do you think it is only that? Oh, I won't say another word if you will
only not be cross with me;' and Mollie relieved her feelings by one of
her strangling hugs.

Mollie was quite used to people finding fault with her and telling her
she was a goose. When Audrey kissed her, she sat down and copied her
exercise in a humble and contrite spirit; it was Audrey who felt sad and
spiritless the rest of the day. 'It has gone deeper than I thought; it
has gone very deep,' she said with a sort of shiver, as she walked up to
Hillside that afternoon.

But a far worse ordeal was before Audrey--one that threw all Mollie's
girlish chatter into the shade. A few days afterwards she received a
little note from Mrs. Blake.

'MY DEAR MISS ROSS,' it began,

'I am nearly desperate. What have Mollie or I done that we should
be sent to Coventry after this fashion? At least, not Mollie--I am
wrong there: Mollie still basks in the light of your smiles, is
still allowed to converse with you; it is only I who seem to be
debarred from such privileges. Now, my dear creature, what can you
mean by keeping away from us like this? I was at Woodcote
yesterday, but you had flown. I had to sit and chat with Mrs. Ross
instead; she is delightful, but she is not her daughter; no one but
yourself can ever fill your place; no one can be Miss Ross. Now
will you make us amends for all this unfriendliness? If you will
only come to tea with me to-morrow I will promise you full
forgiveness and the warmest of welcomes.

'Yours affectionately but resentfully, M. BLAKE.'

Audrey wrote a pretty playful little answer to this. She was sorry to be
accused of unfriendliness, but nothing was farther from her thoughts;
she was very busy, very much engaged. Relays of parents had been
interviewing them at Woodcote; her sister had not been well, and all her
afternoons had been spent at Hillside. Mrs. Blake must be lenient; she
would come soon, very soon, and so on. Mrs. Blake was more formid