As her patroness laughed, Pamela waxed serious, while Jocelyn Bellairs stood scarlet and indignant, the picture of offence and injured rectitude. “I little thought, my Lady, when those cats at Mirabel’s got hold of my cat of an aunt--begging your Ladyship’s pardon--and started this scandal against me, and all along of seeing my pink flounces at tea with old Madame Guturez, this darling’s grandmother, I little thought your Ladyship would be ready to believe such an outrageous bit of spiteful nonsense. “When they upped and attacked me, says I to them, ‘Mind your own business!’ Heaven be good to me,” said Pamela. “I wasn’t going to stoop to defend myself to them, and if I hadn’t been the best-natured girl in the world, I’d have gone straight to Madam Mirabel, and told her then and there of their plot! “And as for Aunt Lydia--well, her ladyship knows herself. Those old maids have the minds of I don’t know what. It’s enough to be young and good-looking for them to think the worst of you. And her a-drawing in Mr. Bellairs so shameful. I don’t mind confessing to you, my Lady, that the more that poor old thing shook and shivered, and went on at me, the more I thought it would be a fine joke to let her give herself away. But when it comes to your Ladyship----” “Well, well,” said Kitty, not quite liking the tirade, with pansy eyes rather angry over tightly smiling lips. “You had but to write me three words of explanation, Pamela----” “Begging your Ladyship’s pardon, if I’d explained ever so, your Ladyship wouldn’t have believed. No lady would ever believe a poor girl accused like me, if she didn’t bring up proof. And allow me to point out, your Ladyship,” went on the milliner, with a flourish, as if she were indicating some remarkable feather or trimming, “that your Ladyship having merely wrote me to come round with the child, it wouldn’t have been becoming in me to be attributing meanings to your Ladyship’s commands.” The fire went out of Kitty’s eyes, for she was a just woman; she laughed again, and this time with a genuine ring. “Why, was there ever such a girl! And I so moved over your story, and so yearning over the child, and so stirred up, ready to threaten and appeal. And so pleased with myself to be standing such a friend to you, and bringing Master Jocelyn to book so clever!” “Nay,” said Pamela, “she’s not mine at all.” Here she swung the little creature up into her arms, and hugged her. “And I’m sure I wish she was. There, I don’t know what I wouldn’t have gone through to have such a little darling as this all my own! No, she’s not mine, your Ladyship. Poor innocent. Ah, ’tis cruel! It’s worse than no mother at all she has, her that’s the child of the wretch that calls herself Lady Sanquhar.” Both Kitty and her nephew-by-law cried out at this; Master Jocelyn was shaken from his injured mood by sudden memories.