"Two, three months should do it," thought the girl; "then I can go back with Angela St Just in the autumn; for she is returning to Frankfort, I know, just to be with Mrs Silchester, and I can take her back. Oh, little Angela!" Marcia recalled the soft touch of Angela's blooming cheek; the look in her lovely eyes; the refinement in all her bearing. Mrs Aldworth indulged in a nap; but now tea appeared and there was again bustle and movement, and when Mr Aldworth entered the room presently, he was so surprised at the improvement in his wife that he scarcely knew her. "Marcia, you are a magician," he said. "You must uphold me with regard to the girls," said Marcia. "Of course, dear, you must uphold her. She has been explaining things to me," said the wife. "She says that my children are exceedingly selfish." "I have always known that," replied Mr Aldworth, looking at his daughter. Mrs Aldworth began to frown. "I must say I think it is very unkind of you to say so; but of course you stick up for Marcia, and you abuse my poor children. That is always the way. I suppose just because Marcia's mother thought herself a fine county lady and I--my people only in common trade, that--" "Oh, hush, Amelia," said her husband. "Mother--dear mother!" said Marcia. Mr Aldworth backed out of the room as quickly as he could. He met his son on the stairs. "Don't go in," he said. "She's as jealous as ever she can be. Like a bear with a sore head. The girls are all out enjoying themselves and Marcia is keeping guard. I must say that she makes an excellent nurse. I believe your mother will be ever so much better in a short time. She has her out on the balcony, prettily dressed, surrounded by coloured silks and all that sort of thing, and Marcia herself is looking like a picture." "She is very handsome," interrupted Horace. "I'll go in and have a peep. I don't often visit mother." If there was a person in the whole world whom Mrs Aldworth respected, it was her stepson. She was, of course, a little bit afraid of him; she was not in the least afraid of her husband. She had led him a sorry sort of life, poor man, since he had brought her home, an exceedingly pretty, self-willed, rather vulgar little bride. Horace and Marcia had a bad time during those early days, but Marcia had a worse time than Horace, for Horace never submitted, never brooked injustice, and managed before she was a year his stepmother to turn that same little stepmother round his fingers. Marcia, luckily for herself, was sent to school when she was old enough, but Horace lived on in the house. He took up his father's business and did well in it, and was his father's prop and right hand. "Horace, dear," exclaimed Marcia, when she saw her brother. Horace came out through the open window, bending his tall head to do so. "Upon my word," he said, "this is very pleasant. How nice you look, mother, and how well. Marcia, I congratulate you."