Salvina had not waited a minute in the imposing hall, ere a radiant belle flew down the stairs--with a vivacity that troubled the sacro-sanct atmosphere--and caught Salvina in her arms. "Oh, you dear Sally! I am _so_ glad to see you," and a fusillade of kisses accompanied the hug. "Whatever brings you here? Oh, and such a dowdy frock! You needn't flush up so, silly little child; nobody expects you to know how to dress like us ignoramuses, and it doesn't matter to-day, there's no one to see you, for they're all out driving, and I'm lying down with a headache." "Poor Kitty. But then you ought to be out driving." She was divided between sympathy for the sufferer, and admiration of the finished, fine ladyhood implied in indifference to the chance of a carriage-drive. "Yes, but I've so many letters to write, and they don't really drive on Sundays, just stop at house after house, and not good houses either. It is such a bore. They've never shaken off the society they had before they made their money." "Well, but that's rather nice of them." "Perhaps, but not nice for me. But come upstairs and you shall have some tea." Salvina mounted the broad staircase with a reverence attuned to her own hushed footfalls, but her task of breaking the news to her sister weighed the heavier upon her for all this subdued magnificence. It seemed almost profane to bring the squalid episodes of Hackney into this atmosphere, appropriate indeed to the sinful romances of marquises and epauletted officers, but wholly out of accord with surreptitious furniture vans. What a blow to poor Kitty the news would be! She dallied weakly, till the tea was brought by a powdered footman. Then she had an ingenious idea for a little shock to lead up to a greater. She would say they were going to move. But as she took off her white glove not to sully it with the tea and cake, Kitty cried: "Why what have you done with my ring?" Here was an excellent natural opening, but Salvina was taken too much aback to avail herself of it, especially as the artificial opening preoccupied her mind. "Oh, your ring's all right," she said hastily; "I came to tell you we are going to move." Kitty clapped her hands. "Ah! so you've taken my advice at last! I'm so glad. It wasn't nice for me to stay with you at that dingy hole, even for a day or two a year. Mustn't mother be pleased!" Salvina bit her lip. Her task was now heavier than ever. "No, mother isn't pleased. She is crying about it." "Crying? Disgusting. How she still hankers after Spitalfields and the Lane!" "She isn't crying for that, but because father won't go with us." "Oh, I have no patience with father. He hasn't a soul above red herrings and potatoes." "Oh, yes he has. He has left us." "What! Left you?" Kitty's pretty eyes opened wide. "Because he won't move to a better house!" "No, we are moving to a worse house because he has moved to a better." "What _are_ you talking about? Is it a joke? A riddle? I give it up."