It was a very pretty room. Diana had almost furnished it, as well as given the house. Opposite the window was an old-fashioned convex mirror, making the prettiest sparkling picture of the park with its trees; a little old cabinet underneath had Mrs. Norton’s pet china arranged upon it, catching the sunshine: the sofa by the fireside was as softly luxurious, though it was so small, as anything in the Chase. “What have we done that she should have been so good to us? and she will think it ungrateful,” Mrs. Norton said to herself, drying her eyes; but nothing could be ungrateful which was done with such reluctant sorrow. She heard the sound of the voices outside, and got up from her work tearfully, thinking how rash Sophy was with her cough to run to the door. “I shall never get her to take care--here,” she thought. “How nice of you to come!” Sophy was saying. “Oh, I was just sitting at the window, wishing and wishing for you--yes, isn’t the mignonette sweet?--it is almost the last thing now--the flowers are going. Oh, but come in, come in--you must not stand in the hall; and your boots are wet, Diana. You have come across the grass.” “Which is not a thing for little girls to do,” said Diana, letting the long serge skirt drop which she had been carrying looped over her arm. She was fond of long dresses, though they were inconvenient, and had to be looped up. “I have come to speak to your aunt about business, and you may run away for a little. Go and see if your ribbons are all right for this evening: for you are coming up to dinner to meet the Hunstantons and the clergy; and you know in that case you are always to look your best.” “As if I cared how I look, for _them_!” said Sophy. “But are we really, really coming up to-night? My white is not quite fresh enough if Mrs. Hunstanton is coming--she is so particular; and my blue is rather shabby; and you don’t like my green. What am I to wear? There is the grey Japanese silk you gave me; or shall I put on my pink spotted?” “Here is the auntie,” said Diana. “Send her away, Mrs. Norton, for I have something to consult you about.” “Your grey, my love,” said Mrs. Norton, “with the blue ribbons. That is pretty for this season, and not so thin. Oh, Diana! I ought to have gone to you. I, too, want to tell you of something. If you should think me ungrateful, or that I don’t feel all your kindness to the bottom of my heart----” “We mean the same thing, poor little auntie. That cough of Sophy’s----” “Then you have noticed it,” cried Mrs. Norton, turning very pale. “You think it very serious--as I do! like her mother’s! O Diana, my child! Perhaps the doctor has said something to you. What shall I do? what shall I do?” “It is not the least serious,” said Diana. “_I_ spoke to the doctor, and he laughed.”