We stood fronting each other, Cecilia and I. That she knew me as well as I knew her, I could not doubt for an instant. For one moment she hesitated whether to speak to me, and I took advantage of it. Dropping the lowest courtesy I could make, I turned my back upon her, and walked straight away to the other end of the room. But not before I had seen that she was superbly dressed, and was leaning on the arm of Mr Parmenter. Not, also, before I caught a fiery flash gleaming at me out of the tawny eyes, and knew that I had made an enemy of the most dangerous woman in my world. But what could I have done else? If I had accepted Cecilia's hand, and treated her as a friend, I should have felt as though I were conniving at an insult to my father. At the other end of the room, I nearly ran against a handsome, dark-haired girl in a yellow satin slip, who to my great astonishment said to me,-- "Well played, Miss Caroline Courtenay! I have been watching the little drama, and I really compliment you on your readiness and spirit. You have taken the wind out of her Ladyship's sails." "Hatty!" I cried, in much amazement. "Is it you?" "Well, I fancy so," said she, in her usual mocking way. "My beloved Cary, do tell me, have you brought that delicious journal? Do let me read to-night's entry!" "Hatty!" I cried all at once. "You--" "Yes, Madam?" If she had not on my best purple scarf--my lost scarf, that my Aunt Kezia could not find! But I did not go on. I felt it was of no earthly use to talk to Hatty. "Seen it before, haven't you?" said Hatty, in her odious teasing way. "Yes, I thought I had better have it: mine is so shabby; and you are only a little Miss--it does not matter for you. Beside, you have Grandmamma to look after you. You shall have it again when I have done with it." I had to bite my tongue terribly hard, but I did manage to hold it. I only said, "Where are you staying, Hatty?" "At Mrs Crossland's, in Charles Street, where I shall be perfectly delighted to see my youngest sister." "Oh! Not with the Bracewells?" "With the Bracewells, certainly. Did you suppose they had pitch-forked me through the window into Mrs Crossland's drawing-room?" "But who is Mrs Crossland?" "A friend of the Bracewells," said Hatty, with an air of such studied carelessness that I began to wonder what was behind it. "Has Mrs Crossland daughters?" I asked. "One--a little chit, scarce in her teens." "Is there a Mr Crossland?" "There isn't a Papa Crossland, if you mean that. There is a young Mr Crossland." "Oh!" said I. "Pray, Miss Caroline, what do you mean by `Oh'?" asked Hatty, whose eyes laughed with fun. "Oh, nothing," I replied. "Oh!" replied Hatty, so exactly in my tone that I could not help laughing. "Take care, her Ladyship may see you." "Hatty, why do you call Cecilia `her Ladyship'?"