“I have been lying awake all night, thinking of mother,” was the mendacious reply. “I see she is fretting dreadfully; it would break her heart to part with me, and I shall never leave her, or at least,” correcting herself, “never leave England.” “It is unfortunate that you did not think of mother a little sooner!” said Jessie, glancing round the room, which was blocked up with boxes and parcels containing purchases in the shape of hats and shoes and jackets, and many articles “on approval.” “I think you are very wise to stay at home; but it is a pity that you have made such great preparations. Is it not, Honor?” “No doubt _you_ think so,” retorted Fairy, sarcastically. “Of course it seems a pity that none of my pretty new things will fit either of _you_.” CHAPTER VII. FAIRY RELENTS. Now that, to every one’s intense relief, Fairy had changed her mind and withdrawn her claim, the question remained, Who was to go? Public opinion, her mother, Jessie--in short, every voice save one, said Honor. But Honor was indisposed to visit the East. She was not an enterprising young woman, and she was fond of home; and Fairy, when alone with her, shed showers of crocodile tears every time the subject was mentioned. She could not bear to part with her favourite sister; no, it was too cruel of people to suggest such a thing. Who, she asked herself, would dress her hair, and button her boots, and read her to sleep? And many of Honor’s hateful tasks would fall to her, such as arranging the flowers, dusting the drawing-room, housekeeping, going messages, for Jessie’s time meant money, and must be respected. Aloud, in the family circle, she said in authoritative tones, “Let Jessie go! As to looks, _any_ looks are good enough for India; even Jessie will seem handsome there. After all, why should any of them accept the invitation? England was a free country. She (Fairy) would send a nice, grateful little letter, and keep the cheque. Uncle Pelham would never be so mean as to take it back, and they would buy a pony instead of that maddening donkey, and make a tennis-ground, and take a fortnight’s trip to London, and enjoy themselves for once in their lives.” A week elapsed. The mail had gone out without an answer to Mr. Brande. Jessie and her mother had both talked seriously to Honor, and she had listened with her pleasantest smile, whilst they pointed out the advantages she would personally reap from her Eastern trip. She made no attempt to argue the point, only asked in a playful way who was to drive the donkey? Who was to play the harmonium in church? for she flattered herself that she was the only person in the parish who could do either. And there was the garden and the poultry--the hens would be lost without her! “We shall _all_ be lost without you,” rejoined Jessie; “but we can spare you for your own good.”