"Lettice!" cried Hilary, and drew in her breath with a pang of bitterest disappointment. "Lettice! Oh, no, no, no!" cried Norah, throwing her arms round her favourite sister, and trembling with agitation. "My little Lettice!" echoed Mr Bertrand, with a groan of such genuine dismay, that Miss Carr stared at him in discomfiture. "My dear Austin--if it makes you so unhappy--" "No--no. I gave you my word, and I am not going back. Besides," with a kindly glance at the other two girls, "I should have felt the same, whichever way you had decided. Well, that's settled! I am off now, Helen. We can have our talk later." He walked hastily out of the room, and Miss Carr turned back to the girls with a troubled expression. "My dears, I know you will both feel parting with your sister, but I will do all I can to soften the blow. You can always look forward to meeting at Christmas and Midsummer, and I shall ask your father to bring you up in turns to visit us in London. Though Lettice is to be my special charge, I take a deep interest in you both, and shall hope to put many little pleasures in your way. And now, my dears, will you leave us alone for a time? I want to have a quiet talk with Lettice before we part." The two girls filed out of the room, and stood in the hall, facing each other in silence. Miss Briggs put her head out of the morning-room, with an eager--"Well--_Who_!" and when Norah pointed dolefully towards the drawing-room door, disappeared again with an exclamation of dismay. It was the same all round, Hilary told herself. Everyone was miserable because Lettice had been chosen. Everyone called out in sharp tones of distress, as if disappointed not to hear another name. Mr Bertrand was too dear and kind for it to be possible to make a charge of favouritism against him, but Lettice's striking likeness to her mother seemed to give her a special claim to his tenderness, while as for the rest of the household, Miss Briggs was as wax in Lettice's hands, for the simple reason that she was a solitary woman, and the girl showed her those little outward signs of affection which make up the sweetness of life; while the servants would do twice as much for her as for any other member of the family, because, "bless her pretty face, she had such a way with her!" Hilary felt indescribably chilled and humiliated as she realised how little regret her own departure would have caused in comparison, and when she spied Mr Rayner's figure crossing the lawn, she shrank back, with uncontrollable repugnance. "You tell him, Norah! I can't. I am going upstairs."