“I do,—I know,—auntie flutes and sews splendidly,” Gertie’s voice rang out clear and silvery as a bell, while Alice stared at her superciliously at first; then curiously; and turned to me with a questioning look in her haughty eyes. I knew Miss Creighton would never forgive me if I introduced her formally to the _protégée_ of one who did fluting and plain sewing, so I merely said: “This is Gertie Westbrooke, my pupil, whose auntie lives at Vine Cottage, and will I dare say be glad of your work.” Gertie bowed, but Alice’s head was high as ever, and as she had thrown off her hat she did look funny with that little ball of hair perched on the top of her head. But it was fashionable, and Alice led the fashions in Hampstead, and it was not for me to criticise, though I did mentally compare the two girls, as they stood there side by side, Gertie, with her wealth of auburn hair, on which the setting sunlight fell, her blue eyes opened wide and full of eager interest in the girl who was engaged, her simple gingham frock, her pretty frilled white apron and rather coarse shoes; the whole so different from the ruffled silk, old enough for a woman of twenty-five, the dainty boots of bronze, the profusion of jewelry, the elaborately arranged hair, the small, _retroussé_ nose, and the half-shut sleepy eyes which stared so hard at Gertie, as if she were a new species of the animal kingdom never seen before. “Yes, I heard Godfrey had some new tenants in his house,” Alice said; “and I am glad to know the woman can sew and flute. I wonder if she does it well? Did she do this?” And she put out her hand to lift Gertie’s apron for inspection. But the child took a step backward, and said, with the manner of a duchess: “Yes, she did this; and she sews very well. You can judge for yourself by trying her.” Alice elevated her eyebrows and nose, and I was almost certain the ball on her head took an upward inclination too, but she said nothing except that she would call to-morrow and see the woman. “What is her name, did you say?” I told her Mrs. Rogers; and with a little nod that she understood me, she added: “You ought to see the way Miss Christine is in. It’s too comical for anything, and would amuse me vastly were it not that I, too, feel vexed, and annoyed, and sorry for the girls. It’s too bad to have such a step-mother brought home to them, and I do not blame them for feeling aggrieved. I should rebel, too, to have such a woman thrust upon me.” Gertie had stood very quietly listening to Miss Creighton, her eyes growing larger and darker, and the blood mounting to her cheeks and brow, which were crimson, as she burst out: “It isn’t so, Miss Creighton, if by ‘_such_ a woman’ you mean something bad. It is not so. Lady Edith is beautiful. I know her. I’ve seen her. She gave me a shawl and sent me things when I was sick.”