In truth, Nan's heart was very deeply in her enterprise. Hers was one of those sweet, generous natures which expand, instead of shrivelling under the influence of prosperity. Just in proportion as her own life was beautiful and hedged round with all the sweet fences of love, so did she yearn more and more over her sisters whose lots were cast in such different places--which is the true spirit of Christ, who left the very heavens for our sakes. She had woven many happy dreams about these afternoon meetings, seeing the radiance of her own happiness lighting up dark places, and the power of love and sympathy cheering starved and lonely lives, and was it all to end like this--in a joke for her husband and these two girls? Would Gervase come home, and laugh his tender, happy laugh, and stroke her hair, and call her "Poor little pet!" as if she, and not the missing guests, was the real object of compassion? Nan blinked the tears from her eyes, but they rose again and again-- tears of bitter disappointment; and then, just as the clock was about to strike the quarter, there came another quick whirr of the electric bell, and Cynthia, running out into the hall, came back aglow with excitement. "It is! It _is_!" she hissed in an excited whisper. "I saw her. She's coming upstairs. Quick! Quick! To your posts!" Betty rushed to the fire, Nan stood in the middle of the floor radiant with expectation. The servant threw open the door, and announced in solemn tones-- "Miss Beveridge." The first governess had arrived! CHAPTER TWELVE. MISS BEVERIDGE. She was small and thin, with a bleached, joyless face, which seemed all of the same dull grey tint. Grey hair, grey eyes, grey complexion, a pinched-in mouth and deeply-furrowed forehead. She was dressed in black--shabby black, which is the shabbiest of all shabbies--and, looking at her, it seemed impossible to believe that there had ever been a time when she was young and happy, and had frisked and frolicked, and liked pretty things like any ordinary girl. Cynthia and Betty felt a chill of dismay, but Nan's heart gave a throb of delight. This was one of the very starved, joyless lives which she longed to brighten; it would have been difficult to find a better type of the class. She walked quickly forward, and held out a warm, welcoming hand. "How do you do? I am so pleased you have come?" Miss Beveridge looked at her coldly, then cast an inquiring glance around the room; at the luxurious hangings and furniture, at the glowing fire, at Betty slim and childish in her simple blue frock, at Cynthia with her flowing locks. "Is--is Mrs Vanburgh not at home?" she inquired, drawing up her thin figure with an air of wounded dignity. "I understood that the hours mentioned were from three to seven, but if she is engaged--" Nan smiled in the merry, radiant manner which made her look even younger than her years. "I am Mrs Vanburgh!" "Oh, indeed!" said Miss Beveridge coldly.