"Then whose fault is it, pray?" angrily demanded the lady. "From the moment that girl came into the house, she tried to set herself up above Julia. And do you think I would let her do that without putting her down?" "Nonsense, Clara; that is all your fancy. For she knew before she came that she was to be in the school-room with Isabel, to share her lessons and be her companion." "Yes, and she made up her mind to place herself on a footing with Julia before she had been in the house an hour. I can see as well as you, Mr. Randolph." "Well, but my dear, is she trying to rival Julia by wearing dowdy dresses?" asked the gentleman. "No, but that is just one of her whims, to vex and annoy us. It must be, as she has had the money to buy other clothes," concluded the lady. It certainly was a puzzle, even to Mr. Randolph. He had thought it would be easy enough to remedy this when he first heard his wife's complaint. He would give Isabel a cheque for herself and Mabel to go shopping with, for he could easily understand that in the present critical state of his brother's business, he could not afford to withdraw much money from it, and so Mabel could not have much to spend in dress. But if money had been sent to her for this purpose, and she still chose to wear these winter dresses, then what could he do? As he drove to the town that day, he half regretted having asked her to pay this visit, for he could not help feeling somewhat disappointed in her, despite Isabel's glowing admiration of her cousin. There had been a feeling of half-suppressed quarrelling and antagonism in the atmosphere of his home since her arrival. And although she and Julia were outwardly civil to each other, still it was the civility of foes rather than friends, and each seemed to be on the watch lest the other should gain some advantage in the undeclared warfare. Mr. Randolph had not said this to himself in so many words, but it was what had made itself felt almost as tangibly. And thinking over all this, he was the more puzzled to know how to proceed in this delicate matter of Mabel's dress, lest he should do more harm than good. He had the greatest confidence in his sister-in-law's good sense and right judgment, and at last he decided to write to her about it. He wrote the letter that same afternoon. And then at the last minute, instead of placing it in the basket with others to be posted, he put it into his pocket, for a sudden thought had come to him, that he would talk to Mabel after all, before writing to her mother. This had probably occurred to him through the recollection that his wife and elder daughter were going to a party that evening, and therefore he would have an opportunity of speaking to Mabel without making a fuss about it, for she came to the drawing-room with Isabel as a matter of course now, whenever they had it to themselves.