I stood in a brown study for a minute or two, and as I stood thus Hermione came up to me and asked me if I would not like to go away with her to her room. I was very glad of the reprieve. She took my hand and we ran upstairs. When we found ourselves in her pretty room she made me sit down in the cosiest chair she could find, poked the fire, and squatted herself on the hearth-rug. She wore a lovely dress of very pale Liberty green silk, and looked, with her aristocratic small face and beautiful hair, like a picture. "Well, Dumps," she said, "and so you have solved the mystery?" "You knew it at that time?" I said. "Knew it? Of course I did! It was the greatest amazement to me when Miss Donnithorne said, `You are not to tell her; her father doesn't wish it to be known.'" "Then she did not want to have it kept a secret?" "She?" said Hermione. "Poor darling! it was her greatest desire to tell you--in fact, she had quite made up her mind to do so--but she received a most urgent letter from your father saying that he would infinitely prefer none of you to know until after the ceremony. You mustn't blame her." "I think it was exceedingly wrong to deceive me," I said. "It was not her fault; you must not blame her." I was silent. On the whole, my step-mother's conduct could not seem quite so black if she herself had been forced to act as she did. Nevertheless, I felt uncomfortable. Hermione glanced at me. "You look very much better," she said. "What do you mean by that?" "Not that you are dressed so wonderfully well--of course, I shouldn't dream of making any comments with regard to your dress; but then you were quite exquisitely attired the last time you came here. Mother said she had never seen anything so _chic_ in all her life as that little dark-blue costume with the grey fur; and it suited you so well." I was wearing one of my summer dresses which my step-mother had altered for me shortly after she came to us. It was made of pale-blue crepon, which had been rather ugly, but she had put on a beautiful lace tucker, and had arranged the skirt so that my growing length of limb was not so discernible. "It isn't your dress," continued Hermione--"never mind about it--nobody cares what any one else wears on Christmas Day--but it is your face." "And what about that?" I said. "You are so much better-looking." I felt myself flushing. "I wish you wouldn't laugh at me, Hermione. It isn't kind. I can't help being plain." "No," said Hermione, putting her head a little on one side. "Nothing will ever give you remarkably good eyes, or much of a nose, or anything special of a mouth; but you have got a complexion now, and your cheeks have filled out." "Oh, I was always fat," I said. "Well, but they look different," she said; "I can't tell why."