Clotilde turned her head away, and gave her teeth an angry snap as she went on rapidly dressing, while the new arrival poured out half a tumbler of a dark-brown fluid from the jug, after giving the said jug a twirl round to amalgamate its contents. This tumbler was handed to Clotilde. "I'm not ready, nurse," she said pettishly; "leave it on the table, and we'll take it. We shall be down directly." "I don't go till I can tell your aunts that every drop's taken," said the woman sturdily. "I know your tricks, making Miss Ruth drink it all. Both of you did last time." "Did Ruth dare to say we did?" cried Marie sharply. "No, she didn't, miss, so don't you go in a pet." "Then how could you tell?" cried Clotilde. "How could I tell, big baby?" said the woman scornfully; "why, wouldn't three doses make her ill?" "I don't know. Ugh! filthy stuff!" said Clotilde, taking the tumbler, drinking off the brown draught, and shuddering afterwards. She set down the glass, which was, after another flourish of the white jug, the spoon being held captive by the woman's thumb, half filled again. "Now, Miss Marie." Marie made a grimace, and drank her portion in turn, after which Ruth swallowed hers with the patience and long-suffering of custom. "Now, Miss Clotilde," said the woman, picking out something dark from the bottom of the jug with the spoon, "here's your prune." This was held out in the spoon, and it was ludicrous to see the handsome, womanly girl open her ruddy lips to admit the brown swollen morsel, a similar process being gone through with Marie and Ruth. "There, children, don't make such a fuss about it," said the woman. "It's lucky for you that you've got aunties who take such care of you. Pretty skins and complexions you'd have if you weren't looked after, and when you grow up, if you're wise, you'll treat yourselves just the same. Now then, make haste down." This was uttered as she left the room and closed the door, after which Clotilde waited till her steps were inaudible, when she stamped with both her feet, and ground her teeth like an angry child. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried. "The disgusting, filthy stuff. I'm sick of it all, 'Rie. I'll run away with the first man who asks me, even if he's a sweep. I hate it; I hate everything; I hate myself, and won't submit any longer. We're not children, and I won't have it. Where's our spirit, that we don't rebel?" "Where could we go? What could we do?" replied Marie. "It's horrible. How could we bear it all these weary years?" She clasped her hands, and threw herself into her chair, rocking herself to and fro, while Ruth crept softly to her side, and placed her blonde face against the riper, rounder cheek of her cousin. It was a mute way of showing her sympathy, and Marie felt it to be so, for she turned quickly and kissed her just as the loud jangle of a large hand-bell was heard from below, and Clotilde returned from the open window.