Conscious of observation--though only the observation of an old woman--Grace, who was proud of her way of moving, stepped forwards and backwards with still more daintiness than usual. She heard Jean say-- "What gars Miss Rivers walk yon way, hippity hop from ane side till another?" And then in a moment she answered her own question-- "Ou, aye, the gravel's hard; and she'll have corns." Grace retreated, with a feeling of hatred against her. This little affront was the cause of her impertinence to Mrs. Dorriman, and all that had followed. Nothing could be done that night, and when the long chilly evening came to an end the sisters crept into bed. They had come to no resolution, they only intended to go away; but it may be noted that in this emergency Grace's superiority failed to assert itself--it was Margaret to whom she turned; Margaret, who, barely beyond childhood, was to think for both. The last thing Mr. Sandford wanted was to have the difficulty solved in any way derogatory to the position he had taken up, of befriending two girls who had no real claim upon him. If they left his house, all Renton would hear of it, and put their own conclusion upon it. Like all men who act and speak in a passion he was very angry if he was taken at his word. He found it so easy to forget his harsh sayings, that he never could understand that other people should have any difficulty in doing so. He had wished to wound Grace and bring her down, and then was annoyed by her retreat. Mrs. Dorriman had so often smarted from his tyranny in old days that she could fully understand and sympathise with the girls; and the incessant rudeness of Grace to herself did not prevent her feeling for her. Mr. Sandford had implied, and almost said, that he had offered Grace, so to speak, to Mr. Drayton, who would have none of her. She was womanly enough to resent the insult for Grace, as representing girlhood, and she was so indignant with her brother about this that she, for the time, lost all sense of dread. He would not come upstairs, but he sent to request her to go to him to his own room, where he was sitting sending long puffs of smoke across the room. He saw her glance at his pipe, and laid it down--the act in itself spoke of a changed feeling towards her. She keenly remembered in old days how persistently he had made her write for him and talk to him, while the fumes of his pipe had made her feel so ill she could hardly do either. "Well! what is to be done?" he began, looking at her keenly underneath his shaggy brows. "I am sure I do not know," she answered, helplessly. "Well, you had better think. What is the use of being a woman if you cannot arrange things?" And Mrs. Dorriman thought; and then spoke out her thoughts--a thing new to her when her brother was in question. CHAPTER IX.