The General looked at the dismal little figure with a twinkling eye. Already he had been introduced to three separate Betty Trevors, and it would be interesting to ascertain which of the various representations approached nearest to the reality. Judging from Miss Betty's conversation this afternoon, Christmas would appear to be her _bete noire_ throughout the year, and she could see no bright spot in the horizon. The presents which she had prepared were all failures; unlike Jill, she wanted nothing in return; it was dull having "no one but ourselves" in the house on the great day, while, on the other hand, it would be horrid to have strangers. Mrs Vanburgh had gone off home to enjoy herself, and had left the "Govies" in the charge of herself and Cynthia Alliot to "cheer up and entertain," and how could they do it, pray, a couple of girls like themselves? She scowled quite fiercely at the General as she put the question, but he only chuckled in reply, having already been treated to the history of Nan's first `At Home' from the lips of an historian more sceptical than sympathetic. "Aha! Those governesses! How many may they be? Do you still entertain the few to conversation, and yourselves to the good things provided for the many?" he cried teasingly, whereupon Betty assumed what she conceived to be an air of haughty reproach, and replied coldly-- "We had four at our last reception. They all want to come again, and were most agreeable. Two of them have gone home for the holidays, but the others have no homes to go to. They are the ones we have to entertain, and it's silly, because they are so tired of girls that we are the last people they wish to see. Mrs Vanburgh is different--she's married, and is more interesting. Mother says she's sorry, but there are a dozen poor ladies who have a greater claim on us--father's patients, and so on--and what can I do by myself?" She sighed, and raised her eyes in a meek, resigned fashion to the cornet of the ceiling. "It's not for want of will, or want of thought I lay awake for quite half an hour worrying about it one night!" "Send them a Christmas card, and be done with it," cried Jill callously. "You can get beauties for a halfpenny at the little sweet shop round the corner. I'll sell you one I bought yesterday. Convolvulus, and `May all your hours be filled with joy.' Just the thing you want!" Betty's lip curled in disdain. "So appropriate, isn't it? So likely to be true!" "All the more reason to wish for it," maintained Jill pertly. "What's the good of wishing if you don't wish something nice? You don't want to take for granted that she is going on mumping and grumping all next year. Something nice might happen to her, as well as to anyone else."