And all the time poor little Phosy was left to the care of Alice, a clever, careless, good-hearted, self-satisfied damsel, who, although seldom so rough in her behaviour as we have just seen her, abandoned the child almost entirely to her own resources. It was often she sat alone in the nursery, wishing the Lord would chasten her--because then he would love her. The first course was nearly over ere Augustus had brought himself to ask-- "What did you think of the sermon to-day, Letty?" "Not much," answered Letty. "I am not fond of finery. I prefer simplicity." Augustus held his peace bitterly. For it was just finery in a sermon, without knowing it, that Letty was fond of: what seemed to him a flimsy syllabub of sacred things, beaten up with the whisk of composition, was charming to Letty; while, on the contrary, if a man such as they had been listening to was carried away by the thoughts that struggled in him for utterance, the result, to her judgment, was finery, and the object display. In excuse it must be remembered that she had been used to her father's style, which no one could have aspersed with lack of sobriety. Presently she spoke again. "Gus, dear, couldn't you make up your mind for once to go with me to Lady Ashdaile's to-morrow? I am getting quite ashamed of appearing so often without you." "There is another way of avoiding that unpleasantness," remarked her husband drily. "You cruel creature!" returned Letty playfully. "But I must go this once, for I promised Mrs. Holden." "You know, Letty," said her husband, after a little pause, "it gets of more and more consequence that you should not fatigue yourself. By keeping such late hours in such stifling rooms you are endangering two lives--remember that, Letty. It you stay at home to-morrow, I will come home early, and read to you all the evening." "Gussy, that _would_ be charming. You _know_ there is nothing in the world I should enjoy so much. But this time I really mustn't." She launched into a list of all the great nobodies and small somebodies who were to be there, and whom she positively must see: it might be her only chance. Those last words quenched a sarcasm on Augustus' lips. He was kinder than usual the rest of the evening, and read her to sleep with the Pilgrim's Progress. Phosy sat in a corner, listened, and understood. Or where she misunderstood, it was an honest misunderstanding, which never does much hurt. Neither father nor mother spoke to her till they bade her good night. Neither saw the hungry heart under the mask of the still face. The father never imagined her already fit for the modelling she was better without, and the stepmother had to become a mother before she could value her. Phosy went to bed to dream of the Valley of Humiliation. CHAPTER II. The next morning Alice gave her mistress warning. It was quite unexpected, and she looked at her aghast. "Alice," she said at length, "you're never going to leave me at such a time!"