"I don't care two figs about her," said Camilla, "and, as a matter of fact, I am rather sorry for her. Did you see the cut of her skirt? And tea at the stores is the only gaiety she ever has, poor soul. If she would only give me half a chance," Camilla added, "I should be awfully kind to her." After a moment's pause Camilla said-- "It's the old man whom I really hate. Ned always said his father was an old devil, and so he is! It appears he is extra furious with me because I never take the children to see him.... How can I? If he forgets all the horrible things he did and said to me, I have unfortunately a much better memory!" Agnes Brenton took this matter up quickly. "You have never understood Colonel Lancing," she said, "just as he could never be expected to understand you. That he is a hard man I know well; but I am convinced he is not so hard as you imagine. He set his face against your marriage with Ned, not because he objected to you personally; that would have been ridiculous," interpolated Mrs. Brenton with a smile; "but because he knew it was going to be a miserable business for you." Agnes Brenton paused half a moment, and then said in a low voice, "And the result justified that belief pretty surely." Camilla spread out her two small hands to shield her face from the fire. "Don't deceive yourself, Agnes; there is nothing good about him; he is hard, he is cruel, he is horrid." She moved restlessly. "I wish I could cut them all out of my life, especially the old man. What a difference to my daddy. Oh, Agnes, if I only had daddy with me now! Dear, good, loving heart, why did you die?" She bent forward suddenly and rang the bell. "I must have the room arranged again," she said. Her pretty voice sounded a little husky. "It looks too hideous for words, and then, dearest, you shall have something to eat. On second thoughts, I am not sorry that Violet had a bad lunch. I hate every one who belongs to that old wolf! Oh, Agnes, let us talk about that girl Caroline--what's her name?" Mrs. Brenton turned the heel of the sock, and her needles clicked musically for a few moments. Then she said-- "Well, I don't think you ought to do anything without consulting Mr. Haverford." "Good Heavens! why not?" exclaimed Camilla. "Bring back the flowers," she ordered to the maid who appeared at the door at this moment. She got up and began to arrange the room in a restless fashion, unlocking drawers, and taking out all the things she had hidden. "I really don't see what Mr. Haverford has to do with it," she said irritably, after a while. "Don't you?" queried Mrs. Brenton, with a smile. "You must remember that Miss Graniger went to him last night for advice and help." Camilla moved impatiently. "Oh! he will take a month to deliberate. He is so slow. Really it is very ridiculous. You know I must have some one for the children, and Miss Graniger wants work. Why on earth should she not come to me?"