"Yes, thanks." Euphrasia gazed with combative eyes at the speaker; eyes which had to be combative, if they would escape being tearful. "Chilly, I should imagine." "I don't mind cold." Euphrasia spoke curtly. "Ah! So different from me! Now, cold quite shrivels me up, positively kills me! But you are young and vigorous. Have you ever seen Clifton before?" "No, never." ("And I shall not stay long to see it now," thought Euphrasia. "If only I had not come!") "A very pretty place, you know. Delightful walks and drives. Letitia must take you across the downs, and into the Leigh Woods." Euphrasia was silent. "Ah, here is the child at last!" Mrs. Johnston spoke in a tone of relief, feeling that her share of responsibility was ended. "My dear, you have been most thoughtless! Your friend has arrived in your absence, and you know that you were to have gone down to the station. I had looked upon that as a settled matter. Miss Mackenzie must have thought you quite unkind, really 'most' unkind, letting her come among us as a perfect stranger. But of course you could not help it!" Letitia entered slowly—a pretty girl, prettily dressed—with a thundercloud of annoyance on her brow. No confirmation came from her of the last assertion—no disclaimer from Euphrasia of the preceding. A mechanical kiss was exchanged between the friends, and Letitia stood gazing into the fireplace, wrapped up in her own thoughts. Mrs. Johnston glanced from the one downcast face to the other, uncomfortably aware of something out of joint. "Where have you been, my dear?" "To the Fearings!"—shortly. "Lady Fearing?" "Yes, of course! You knew! I told you I was going there!" The tone spoke of ill-temper, and was, to say the least, disrespectful. That her friend "had a temper," as the saying goes, Euphrasia was aware, but she had not before seen precisely this form of it. At school Letitia had been in wholesome subjection, and such a tone to the principal, or to any of the teachers, would not have been tolerated for a moment. At home the spoilt manner of a spoilt child was at once reassumed, but it came upon Euphrasia with a shock. She was not herself peculiarly sympathetic in manner to her own mother, but at least she never showed disrespect. "Well, you may have told me, Letitia, but I am sure I don't remember. So many things are always coming up." "Lady Fearing asked me to call, and I told you I had to go and couldn't get back early. You 'might' have remembered," Letitia continued curtly. "And it's most provoking. Lady Fearing wants me to go to Bath with her and Cecy next week for three or four nights—to one of the hotels. We should go everywhere and see everything. It would be so delightful. Of course, I said I could not, but—" "No, of course not," assented Mrs. Johnston, with a warning glance, which had more effect on Euphrasia than on Letitia. Letitia sighed, and dangled one of her gloves to and fro with a dismal air.