Margot grew tall and graceful for her age; Dorothy was small and very slim. Things went on well both at the school and at the _établissement_, until one day Dorothy Duncan invited her most favoured friend to lunch in the château of _mon oncle_. "Is it very, very French?" asked little Margot. "Oh, no, not any more than anything else here," said Dorothy. "You will enjoy it and you must come. As for me, I am overcome with raptures. My eldest sister--she is just seventeen--has come to us all the way from Rome. She will soon he likely to meet someone whom she can marry. She will be absorbed in getting her trousseau, partly from Paris and partly from that great _établissement_ here, kept by Madame Marcelle!" Margot felt herself colouring slightly. "What is your sister like to look at, Dorothy?" she asked. "Behold, understand!" exclaimed Dorothy, putting on all the French manners she could acquire. "I think that some day I shall be beautiful but not like Hébé. Hébé is almost as beautiful as you, _ma petite_ Comtesse, only of course she is very much older. They say that the establishment of Ninon Lecoles cannot be beaten even in Paris, that city of all the delights. She has sold it now to Madame Marcelle. Ah, but my sister will make a grand marriage and _l'oncle_ Gustave will give her a _dot_ worthy of her." "I am to have a _dot_, too," said little Margot, "but, behold, I care not for it! It is--it is less than of no use at all. What I want is to have my heart brimful of love." "Eh, but you are a darling," said Lady Dorothy. "I know you will love my sister." "I am sure I shall," said little Margot. "Go on, describe her to me, Dorothy." "We are very proud in England," began Dorothy, "very proud indeed. Ah, but our pride is immense. It is like a mushroom, standing up higher than our heads and the top of it covering us and shutting out the world. Of all my sisters there is none so proud as Hébé, and _l'oncle_ Gustave says she will make a very great marriage indeed. She is like me, but she has dark eyes, whereas mine are blue like bits of sky, _n'est-ce pas_?" Margot made no reply. "When am I going to see your sister, Dorothy?" "Shall we arrange for to-morrow? You may perhaps see one of the many _prétendants_ to her hand. Not that she looks at them. Ah _non, non_. She abides her time. There is one called Maurice de Croix. He is a man of the world with an air superb and distinguished, but my sister, she will not regard him. But there, I must not speak any more on such matters. There is, _peut-être_ one in England. I guess--but I dare not say. You will come to-morrow, little Margot, straight from school and be introduced to _ma belle soeur_." Margot gave a little sigh, said that she must ask grandpère, and would let her friend know the following day. Grandpère was highly pleased that his little cabbage should have tea in the true French style with _le pauvre_ Gustave.