"I've done lots—heaps. I don't want to be busy now. Why does mother mind? Is it only because she wants him all to herself? Mother never does like any of us to be too fond of anybody—outside people, I mean. You may just as well answer me, because I can't possibly help seeing things, and I am not a baby." "I think you are; a creature in long clothes. Daisy, get along, and leave me in peace." "Why? You're not really working; you are just making believe. I believe you like to sit and think about Nigel's being at home again." The words stung—how sharply innocent Daisy little dreamed. "And I believe Nigel's at the Rectory, and you know it." "No, I don't." "I don't see why he shouldn't—except for madre. Poor darling madre! I'll never like anybody out of the house, I'm quite determined, except just a moderate little amount. But I suppose Nigel must have friends. Anyhow, he's the dearest old fellow alive—isn't he?" Fulvia was silent. "He's grown so jolly and handsome! I do like a big, strong brother; don't you?" Silence still. Fulvia was pricking her work dreamily with the needle. "Fulvie, you always used to praise Nigel more than anybody. Why don't you answer?" "It is unnecessary now. He is able-bodied, and can look to himself." "How funny you are! Well, Nigel praises you. He told Anice and me, before lunch—after we came in, and you went upstairs—he told us we didn't make half enough of you. And he said—" Daisy paused to examine the fringe nailed round a small table. Fulvia's heart beat fast. "How funny! Here's a spot of candle grease. I wonder how it came?" "He said—what?" "Oh, about you—what was I telling? I forget now. It is too bad of him to stay away such a time." "What do you mean by 'not making enough' of me?" demanded Fulvia. She could not resist putting the question. "Nigel said it, not I. He said a lot more. Oh, he only meant—what was it?—let me see—he only meant you were such a dear, jolly old thing, always doing something for somebody; and he said we let you do too much. Do we? Anice was put out—didn't you see at lunch? That was why she wouldn't eat, and why Nigel and I talked so, for fear mother should notice. Nigel gave us a regular lecture, I can tell you. Anice said you were so strong, it didn't matter; and Nigel said he wasn't so sure about that—only you were unselfish, and never thought of your own wishes—and he said it did matter, because you were not our own sister, and we had no business to make a Cinderella of you. Anice was quite cross. And then Nigel said—No, I wasn't to repeat that. I'm forgetting. He told me not." "Not to repeat what?" "Only about what he said—it was about you, so I mustn't. But I really didn't know before how much Nigel cared for you. Somehow, I always thought he liked Ethel best, after mother and Anice and me. I expect Anice was jealous. Well, there's no harm in repeating one thing Nigel said, and that was that he had never seen anybody like you anywhere."