Bella did not say whether she would have borne this latter loss, but she looked at the four lanky girls in shabby frocks and grubby holland pinafores, dubiously, as if her mind was not quite made up as to their value in the sum of life. Just then there came a sharp double knock at the street door, and the four girls rushed to the window and glued their noses against the panes, like four small jelly-fishes holding on by suction. Bella ran across the room and pushed her four sisters on to the floor in a tumbled heap of brown holland and faded green merino. ‘You horrid vulgar creatures!’ she exclaimed to these blessings. ‘Don’t you know that a visitor can see you? Gracious!’ she exclaimed, ‘it’s Mrs. Dulcimer, and in her best bonnet. Run up and change your gown, mother, and do your hair up better. I can go and receive her. I’m tidy.’ Bella was more than tidy. She would have been presentable anywhere, with her shining plaits of fair hair, her fresh pink and white complexion, perfectly fitting black silk dress, and neat collar and ribbon. Bella was a young woman who would have moved heaven and earth for the sake of a good gown, and who knew how to take care of her clothes and make them last twice as long as other people’s--an invaluable wife for a poor curate, surely, as Mrs. Dulcimer thought. Bella went smiling into the best parlour. It was a very shabby old room to be called best, but it was always kept clean and tidy, and Bella had taken a good deal of pains with it, and had even spent a little of her hardly-earned money to brighten it. The faded chintz was enlivened with starched muslin antimacassars. There was a rustic basket of ferns and flowers in each of the windows, there were a few little bits of Oriental china, the relics of bygone prosperity, on the narrow mantelpiece, there were some water-colour fruit and flower pieces of Bella’s on the walls, neatly framed, and hung with smart blue ribbons, instead of the commonplace picture cord. Mrs. Dulcimer had taken an approving survey of everything, while waiting for Bella’s appearance. ‘Mamma will be down in a minute,’ said Bella, when they had shaken hands. ‘She has been working at our blue merino dresses, and her hands were all over dye. She is so pleased at the idea of your coming to see her.’ ‘It is such a time since I have called on her. I feel quite ashamed. But I have so many calls to make.’ ‘Yes, and you are so good to every one. Mamma is so grateful for your kindness to me.’ ‘It is nothing, Bella. I only wish I could be kinder. You are such a good industrious girl. I wish I could see you comfortably settled in life.’ Bella blushed and smiled. Mrs. Dulcimer’s mania for match-making was notorious. It was an amiable propensity, but did not always work well. ‘Don’t worry yourself about me, dear Mrs. Dulcimer. I have no wish to get settled. I should be sorry to leave poor mamma. I can help her in so many little ways, you know.’