“And what did your friends say when you came away, Hope?” asked Mr Oswald; “was there much lamentation?” “They were all very sorry,” said Hope, “and they all wished they were coming too; only big Miss Mansfield that’s going to India, she did not care, for she thinks we are only girls and she’s a woman, and she’s always speaking about Calcutta--as if anybody was caring for Calcutta!--and little Mary Wood would hardly let me go, mamma--she wanted to come too. Will you let her come at the vacation, mother?--for when all the rest go away, Mary has to stay with Miss Swinton, because she has no friends.” “But Miss Swinton is very kind, is she not?” said Mrs Oswald. “Miss Swinton is always good to everybody,” said Hope promptly, “but when little Mary sees us all going away, and nobody coming for her, she greets--” “She _greets_, Hope!” said Mr Oswald, holding up his hand in reproof. “Well, father,” said the brave Hope, “it is a far better word than cries:--cries! as if folk had only cut their finger! and Miss Swinton says our tongue is as good a tongue as the English, and we need not think shame of it.” Mr Oswald submitted to be defeated, well-pleased and smiling-- “And what does Miss Swinton do at the vacations, Hope?” asked her mother. “I don’t know, mother; sometimes she stays at home, sometimes she goes away to some of those places that the Glasgow girls are always talking about--Rothesay, or somewhere about the Clyde. She was there with Miss Buchanan last year; and oh, mamma, I had almost forgotten--how is _our_ Helen Buchanan? I must go to see her to-day.” The banker’s brow contracted suddenly. His wife was wary, and a good politician; she took no notice of Hope’s unsuitable inquiry. “Miss Swinton went to stay with one of the young ladies, did she? does she do that often, Hope?” “Sometimes, mother; they are all so fond of her--and I don’t think she has ever been in the south country. Perhaps she would come to Fendie, if you were to ask her, mother, and bring little Mary Wood.” “Well we shall see,” said Mrs Oswald; “and what about Adelaide Fendie, Hope?” “Oh, Adelaide Fendie is coming home; the school is not good enough for her; and they’re going to have a governess at Mount Fendie, for her, and Victoria, and little Fred--Poor governess! I am very sorry for her, I am sure, whoever she is. I would far rather keep a school like--” Mrs Oswald interposed hastily, “Is it some one from Edinburgh, Hope?” “No, indeed, mamma. Only somebody from England that Mrs Heavieliegh knows; and I almost hope she will be as stupid as they are, for if she is not, they will kill her. I would not live at Mount Fendie for all the world; and no one can teach Adelaide anything, except to do Berlin work, and thump, thump upon the piano.” “Come, Hope, this is too bad,” said her smiling father. “I hope you can thump upon the piano to some purpose yourself. We must hear you to-night, you know.”