‘If Heathcote should have to be consulted,’ said Anne, ‘it will be the cheapest that he will like best.’ ‘Anne! I shouldn’t have thought that even you could be so unfeeling. To remind us that dear papa----’ cried Mrs. Mountford; ‘dear papa! Do not speak of his life in that indifferent way, at least before Rose.’ ‘Oh, it would not matter,’ said Rose, calmly, ‘whatever happens; for they are for the Lilford houses on our very own land. Heathcote hasn’t anything to do with them.’ ‘Anne might say, “Nor you either,” my Rosie,’ said her mother; ‘for everybody knows that you are cut off out of it in every way. Oh, I don’t find any fault. I knew it when I married, and you have known it all your life. It is rather hard, however, everything turning out against us, you and me, my pet; part of the property going away altogether to a distant cousin, and the rest all tied up because one of you is to be made an eldest son.’ ‘Mamma!’ said Rose, petulantly, giving a quick glance up at her mother, and shrugging her shoulders with the superiority of youth, as who would say, Why speak of things you don’t understand? Then she closed her compasses and put down her pencil. ‘Are we to have a game this afternoon?’ she said; ‘I mean, Anne, are you going to play? Charley and Willie are sure to come, but if you go off as usual, it will be no good, for three can’t play.’ The colour came in a flood over Anne’s pale face. ‘Mamma plays better than I do,’ she said. ‘I have a headache. I don’t think I shall do anything this afternoon.’ ‘Will Mr. Douglas have a headache too?’ said Rose; ‘he generally has when you have. It is not much fun,’ she added, with a little virtuous indignation, ‘for Charley and Willie to play with mamma.’ Mrs. Mountford showed no resentment at this frank speech. ‘No,’ she said, ‘it is not much fun for Charley and Willie. I don’t think it has been much fun for them since Mr. Douglas came. Anne likes his talk; he is a very fine talker. It is more interesting to listen to him than to play.’ ‘Sometimes it is,’ said Anne gravely, though with another blush; and then the two others laughed. ‘My dear, you bring it on yourself; if we are not to have your confidence, we must have our laugh. We have eyes in our head as well as other people--or, at least, I have eyes in my head,’ said the mother. Anne could not but acknowledge that there was reason in what she said, but it was not said in a way to soften the wounded and angry girl. ‘I do not ask you not to laugh,’ she said. ‘You look more like crying,’ said Rose; and she got up and threw her arms suddenly about her sister, being an impulsive little person whose sympathies were not to be calculated upon. ‘What is it, dear: tell _me_,’ she cried, with her soft lips upon her sister’s cheek.