“Better, better?” echoed her sister a little impatiently. “My dear child, what do you mean by better and what’s your point of view?” Bessie wondered. “What do _you_ mean by my point of view?” “Don’t you care for Lord Lambeth—a tiny speck?” Mrs. Westgate demanded. This time Bessie Alden took it with still deeper reserve. She slowly got up from table, turning her face away. “You’ll oblige me by not talking so.” Mrs. Westgate sat watching her for some moments as she moved slowly about the room and went and stood at the window. “I’ll write to him this afternoon,” she said at last. “Do as you please!” Bessie answered; after which she turned round. “I’m not afraid to say I like Lord Lambeth. I like him very much.” Mrs. Westgate bethought herself. “He’s not clever.” “Well, there have been clever people whom I’ve disliked,” the girl said; “so I suppose I may like a stupid one. Besides, Lord Lambeth’s no stupider than any one else.” “No stupider than he gives you warning of,” her sister smiled. “If I were in love with him as you said just now,” Bessie returned, “it would be bad policy on your part to abuse him.” “My dear child, don’t give me lessons in policy!” cried Mrs. Westgate. “The policy I mean to follow is very deep.” The girl began once more to walk about; then she stopped before her companion. “I’ve never heard in the course of five minutes so many hints and innuendoes. I wish you’d tell me in plain English what you mean.” “I mean you may be much annoyed.” “That’s still only a hint,” said Bessie. Her sister just hesitated. “It will be said of you that you’ve come after him—that you followed him.” Bessie threw back her pretty head much as a startled hind, and a look flashed into her face that made Mrs. Westgate get up. “Who says such things as that?” “People here.” “I don’t believe it.” “You’ve a very convenient faculty of doubt. But my policy will be, as I say, very deep. I shall leave you to find out as many things as possible for yourself.” Bessie fixed her eyes on her sister, and Mrs. Westgate could have believed there were tears in them. “Do they talk that way here?” “You’ll see. I shall let you alone.” “Don’t let me alone,” said Bessie Alden. “Take me away.” “No; I want to see what you make of it,” her sister continued. “I don’t understand.” “You’ll understand after Lord Lambeth has come,” said Mrs. Westgate with a persistence of private amusement.