"He has always been nasty with me. That is nothing new," said Camilla, quickly. Mrs. Horace Lancing looked at her in a sly kind of way. "Well, of course, it is none of my business, but I do think you are foolish not to try and make friends with him. Have you ever thought what would happen if he were to stop your allowance? I have heard him threaten this more than once. And then he complains bitterly that you never take the children to see him. It would help things a lot for you if you were to do this now and then. He is an old man, you know, and old people like to be remembered sometimes." Camilla's eyes were bright. "I am sorry, but the suburbs make me ill. If Colonel Lancing wants to see the children he must come here...." There was almost a frightened expression for an instant on the other woman's face; evidently "grandpa" was no joking matter to her. "Well, you can't say I haven't warned you," she said, and then she laughed. "The suburbs have their uses all the same sometimes, haven't they?" she observed. "Let me see. I think I left my umbrella downstairs." Camilla accompanied her departing guest to the door. "Are you sure you won't have a cab; it is getting late, you know." There was a package lying on the hall table beside Mrs. Lancing's umbrella. "Do you mind taking that to Mabel?" asked Camilla. "It is some chocolate, it won't do her any harm; it came from Paris." When she was alone she mounted the stairs slowly and sat down once more on the stool in front of the fire. With a sigh, she clasped her hands round one knee, and swayed backwards and forwards, shutting her eyes, and Agnes Brenton, coming in rather softly, found her like this. Mrs. Brenton paused a moment before advancing, and then she went forward and put her hand gently on Camilla's shoulder. "What is it, dear? Did she scratch you very badly?" Camilla turned and laughed faintly. "She always manages to upset me, and as she came on purpose to be disagreeable, her visit has been most successful." Mrs. Brenton pulled forward a chair, and sat down. She had left her knitting on one of the small tables the day before, and she took it up now mechanically, and began to move the needles to and fro. Camilla watched her in a dreamy sort of way. Vaguely she wondered to herself how many hundred pairs of socks Agnes had made in her life. "I must be a horribly wicked woman," she said suddenly, "otherwise I could not possibly have been given such a scourge as being compelled to take bread from these people." "I thought a long time ago," said Mrs. Brenton, in her calm, quiet way, "you had realized what to expect from Violet Lancing. Dear child, it is hardly possible that she should be sympathetic to you."