"Of all things I should have loved it," she murmured. "Why should you not go?" asked Euphrasia. "Oh, why—of course—" uttered Letitia, half-ashamed. "It would not be convenient. Entirely out of the question." Mrs. Johnston launched another reproachful glance. She might be as much disappointed as Letitia at the impossibility, and she was not delighted at first sight with her daughter's friend, nevertheless, she knew what politeness required of them both. "Then it is not because of my being here for a few days? That need make no difference. I shall be going home early next week." "Oh, nonsense—why, you promised us a month at least." Letitia was beginning to get a glimpse of herself from outside, and to realise the rudeness into which temper had betrayed her. "I don't think I promised anything. I have only come for a 'very' few days. My father isn't well, and I almost put off coming altogether." "Oh, well—of course that makes a difference. I mean, I am very sorry he isn't well. What is the matter with him? But you wouldn't like to be long away, if he is poorly. And then, of course—" "My dear, I think you had better show Miss Mackenzie to her room. Tea will be up in a few minutes, and Miss Mackenzie may be glad to remove her hat." Euphrasia made no objection. She was upheld by a consciousness of having acted her part well. She certainly 'would' go home—if not before Sunday, then immediately after. At home she was wanted, here she was not wanted. A glow of affection for the dear little home crept over her as she walked silently in Letitia's rear; and she wondered how she could ever have been so eager to leave it. [Illustration] CHAPTER VII FRIENDS _AND_ FRIENDS A PANG came as Euphrasia remembered her father's forecast of loss and change, and she wondered how long the little home would still be theirs. How small other matters seemed by comparison! "And yet I 'did' think Letitia really loved me! I didn't think she could be like this!" the girl said voicelessly. The cloud had cleared from Letitia's brow and she tripped lightly upstairs showing the way. Once she paused to slip her arm within Euphrasia's in the old affectionate style, but there was no response. "Why, Euphrasia! You are not vexed with me, are you?" Euphrasia made no answer till the question was repeated. "I don't know," she said then, slowly. "Perhaps not—exactly—vexed! Only I thought you really wanted to have me, and now I see it was a mistake." "You dear old goosie! Nonsense, Euphrasia! What 'can' have put such an absurd notion into your head? Not want you! Of course I want you. I wanted you to stay a whole month—you know I did." "Only you are very glad I cannot." "Really, Euphrasia, you are too ridiculous! What nonsense! Of course if your father isn't well, you are right to go home. That is another matter. I shouldn't be right to try and keep you." "And then you will be free to go to Bath!"