“Dear no, such a mawkish little sentimental name. She is not sentimental at all--are you? What is an Ogilvie name? You have all family names in Scotland, haven’t you, that go from mother to daughter?” Effie sat confused while they talked over her. She was not accustomed to this sudden familiarity. To call the girls by their names, when she scarcely had formed their acquaintance, seemed terrible to her--alarming, yet pleasant too. She blushed, yet felt it was time to stop the discussion. “They call me Effie,” she said. “That is not all my name, but it is my name at home.” “They call me Effie,” repeated Miss Doris, with a faint mockery in her tone; “what a pretty way of saying it, just like the Italians! If you are going to be so conscientious as that, I wasn’t christened Doris, I must tell you: but I was determined Phyll should not have all the luck. We are quite eighteenth century here--furniture and all.” “But I can’t see the furniture,” said Effie, making for the first time an original remark. “Do you like to sit in the dark?” At this both the sisters laughed again, and said that she was a most amusing little thing. “But don’t say that to mamma, or it will quite strengthen her in her rebellion. She would like to sit in the sun, I believe. She was brought up in the barbarous ages, and doesn’t know any better. There she is moving off into the other room with your mother. Now the two old ladies will put their heads together----” “Mrs. Ogilvie is not an old lady,” said Effie hastily; “she is my stepmother. She is almost as young as----” Here she paused, with a glance at Miss Phyllis on the sofa, who was still lying back with her head against the cushion. Effie felt instinctively that it would not be wise to finish her sentence. “She is a great deal younger than you would suppose,” she added, once more a little confused. “That explains why you are in such good order. Have you to do what she tells you? Mamma is much better than that--we have her very well in hand. Oh, you are not going yet. It is impossible. There must be tea before you go. Mamma likes everybody to have something. And then Fred--you must see Fred--or at least he must see you----” “Here he is,” said the other, with a sudden grasp of Effie’s arm. Effie was much startled by this call upon her attention. She turned round hastily, following the movement of her new friends. There could not have been a more dramatic appearance. Fred was coming in by a door at the end of the room. He had lifted a curtain which hung over it, and stood in the dim light outside holding back the heavy folds--looking, it appeared, into the gloom to see if any one was there.