The effect was what might have been expected. The buds had suddenly expanded; every latent thought of suppressed womanhood had burst into light and passionate life; every kept-down fancy and desire that had been in abeyance had started forth, and the buds were in full bloom, just as some choice exotic will in a few hours be completely transformed. Very little was said for a time, but as the sisters removed their walking apparel there was more than one fierce look exchanged. "I saw her look at him," thought Clotilde; "and I'd kill her sooner than she should." "Such outrageous effrontery!" thought Marie; "but she does not know me if she thinks I am going to sit down quietly and let her win." "Enjoy your walk, dear?" said Clotilde, attitudinising before the glass, and admiring herself with half-closed eyes. "Oh yes, Clo dear, it was delightful; but you shouldn't flirt so with that little boy." "Now that's too bad, dear," retorted Clotilde, turning half round to smile sweetly at her sister. "You know that it was you. I felt quite ashamed sometimes to see how you went on." Ruth's eyes grew a little more wide open as she heard this, for she thought that poor little Richard Millet seemed to be left to talk to her more than he liked. "Oh, nonsense, love," replied Marie. "But you don't mean it, you know;" and then the sisters smiled most affectionately one at the other, and gazed curiously in each other's eyes. But as they smiled and looked affectionately at each other, they seemed to need an outlet for the wrath that was gathering fast, and poor Ruth's was the head upon which this poured. The tears stood in her eyes again and again, as first one and then the other displayed her irritation in words, pushes, and more than once in what seemed greatly like blows, all of which was borne in a patient, long-suffering manner. For Ruth was far worse off than a servant, the least independent of which class of young lady would not have submitted to a tithe of the insult and annoyance that fell to the poor girl's share. Upon the present occasion the loud jangling of the bell, that was swung about and shaken by Joseph as if he detested the brazen creation, announced that lunch was ready, the mid-day repast by a pleasant fiction retaining that name, though no late dinner followed, the evening meal taking the form of tea and thick bread, and butter of the kind known as "best Dorset, and regarding whose birth there is always a mystery." The looks of the sisters were anything but bright and loving as they went down, followed by Ruth, who secretly drew up her sleeve, displaying her white, well-moulded arm as she ruefully inspected a black mark--to wit, the bruise made by a forcible pinch from Clotilde's nervous finger and thumb.