She hesitated: she hated deception, and she loved her Aunt Clevering. Then there came to her the memory of Betty's face when she had teased her about Eustace, and her own resolution to be the girl's friend where so much heartache and opposition awaited her. This was her opportunity; if she refused it, she would be abetting the general harshness the girl was likely to encounter. She left the room without a word, and presently Eustace saw through the window her little maid dart across the street and into the opposite gate. "Thank you," he said jubilantly, taking her hand when she reëntered the room. "Wait and see if she comes. She is here but seldom these days; partly because she is still angry with me about Richard, and partly because of the sorrow that came to her a month ago. She may not accept my invitation." But even as she spoke, a clear voice cried in the hall: "Joscelyn, Joscelyn, are you upstairs?" "Nay, I am here," and she met the girl at the door and drew her into the parlour. Eustace came forward smiling. "Now, Mistress Betty, I call this a lucky chance to have dropped in here when you were coming to sit with Joscelyn. Fortune does sometimes favour even so humble a subject as I. Let me move this chair for you." Betty's cheeks had reddened faintly, and she glanced quickly from him to Joscelyn, but found in neither face any confirmation of a suspicion that stirred in her mind. Joscelyn was turning over a great pile of coloured worsteds. "You promised to help me sort the colours for my new cross-stitch--you have such a fine eye for contrasts. But since Eustace is here, methinks we had best put it off; men are so impatient over such matters," she said. "Nay, nay," he protested; "you slander me along with the rest of my fellow-men. Mistress Betty here shall prove it, for I will hold those tangled skeins for her, and she will find that I am patience itself." "Very well, we will put you to the test. What think you, Betty, will this green do for the flower stems?--You like that shade better?--Hold out your hands, Eustace. Now, Betty, wind that while I find a blue for the flowers." Never was anything brought about more naturally and deftly. Almost before she was aware, Betty found herself seated in front of Eustace, who was making great show of resignation. "How does a man sometimes fall from the high estate of his manhood and dignity and become no better than a wooden frame whereon to hang a length of yarn," he said, laughing; then coloured with pleasure as Betty bent toward the table and put her face close to the roses lying there. "Ah, how sweet! I have only a few buds, as yet. Master Singleton brought them to you, Joscelyn?"