When the girls reached home they found Lady Sarah awaiting them in the drawing-room. Her hands were lying idly on her lap, a white shawl was wrapped round her shoulders, and the sight of her tired, dispirited face brought with it a throb of compunction. It was not easy to continue the rhapsodies in which they had indulged all the way from the station in the presence of one who had, so evidently, found the day long and uninteresting. Lady Sarah, however, had many questions to ask, and received each answer with an echo of the old complaint. "If I had only gone with you! It has been a beautiful day, I should have taken no harm. If it had not been for that unfortunate shower I should have seen it all, instead of sitting here the whole day long, wearying to death." "Dear Lady Sarah, haven't you been a drive? Why didn't you order the carriage, and go a nice long drive into the country?" "What is the use of driving by yourself? No, thank you, Bertha, I prefer to stay at home. Cecile? no--not for worlds. I think something must be wrong with the girl's nerves. It seems as if it were impossible for her to sit still the last few days. It fidgets me to be near a person who jumps up and down like a Jack-in-the-box. There is some supper waiting for you in the dining-room, my dears. You had better take it and let us get off to bed. The day has been long enough." The girls turned away obediently and hurried through their meal, not to delay the old lady any longer than could be helped. They had been successful in getting their own way, and, as is usual under the circumstances, conscience was beginning to reproach them for selfishness, and to suggest that it might have been possible to have had their own enjoyment, and to have allowed Lady Sarah to have had hers into the bargain. When the twins went into Mildred's bedroom to say good-night, Bertha could not refrain from putting these sentiments into words. "Poor Lady Sarah, she does look dull! She has had a lonely day. I must say I feel rather--mean." "I feel mean too," said Lois; but at this Mildred interrupted with an impatient protest. "What in the world have you to feel mean about? You have done nothing. It was not your fault. You did nothing to prevent her going." "No, but I didn't want her to come, even when she said it would be a pleasure. I was glad when she was prevented; I thought the shower was quite a providence." "Don't, Bertha!" cried Mildred sharply. Her face flushed to a vivid pink, she seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said decisively, "Look here, I am going to tell you something. You will be shocked, but it's done now, and can't be undone, so there is no use saying anything about it. There was no shower. It was a trick. I played the hose upon her window." A gasp of horror sounded through the room as the twins uttered a simultaneous question, "You--_what_?"