This was a new light to Bobus, and when Mr. Ogilvie proved its truth to him, and described the facilities he would have for the study, he allowed that it made all the difference. Meantime the two ladies had gone in, Mary asking where Janet was. “Gone with Jessie and her mother to a birthday party at Polesworth Lawn.” “Not a good day for it.” “It is the perplexing sort of day that no one knows whether to call it fine or wet; but Ellen decided on going, as they were to dance in the hall if it rained. I’m sure her kindness is great, for she takes infinite trouble to make Janet producible! Poor Janet, you know dressing her is like hanging clothes on a wooden peg, and a peg that won’t stand still, and has curious theories of the beautiful, carried out in a still more curious way. So when, in terror of our aunt, the whole female household have done their best to turn out Miss Janet respectable, between this house and Kencroft, she contrives to give herself some twitch, or else is seized with an idea of the picturesque, which sets every one wondering that I let her go about such a figure. Then Ellen and Jessie put a tie here, and a pin there, and reduce the chaotic mass to order.” It was not long before Janet appeared, and Jessie with her, the latter having been set down to give a message. The two girls were dressed in the same light black-and-white checked silk of early youth, one with pink ribbons and the other with blue; but the contrast was the more apparent, for one was fresh and crisp, while the other was flattened and tumbled; one said everything had been delightful, the other that it had all been very stupid, and the expression made even more difference than the complexion, in one so fair, fresh, and rosy, in the other so sallow and muddled. Jessie looked so sweet and bright, that when she had gone Miss Ogilvie could not help exclaiming, “How pretty she is!” “Yes, and so good-tempered and pleasant. There is something always restful to me in having her in the room,” said Caroline. “Restful?” said Janet, with one of her unamiable sneers. “Yes, she and H. S. H. sent me off to sleep with their gossip on the way home! O mother, there’s another item for the Belforest record. Mr. Barnes has sent off all his servants again, even the confidential man is shipped off to America.” “You seem to have slept with one ear open,” said her mother. “And oh!” as Janet took off her gloves, “I hope you did not show those hands!” “I could not eat cake without doing so, and Mr. Glover supposed I had been photographing.” “And what had you been doing?” inquired Mary, at sight of the brown stains. “Trying chemical experiments with Bobus,” said her mother. “Yes!” cried Janet, “and I’ve found out why we did not succeed. I thought it out during the dancing.” “Instead of cultivating the ‘light fantastic toe,’ as the Courier calls it.”