'Oh, my dear, I don't say that I suspect anything--oh no,--only, if they had not been so close and queer, one would have been able to contradict it. I like people to be straightforward, that's all I have to say. And it is terribly hard on your poor brother to be so disappointed, after having his expectations so raised!' and Mrs. Morton melted into tears, leaving Constance with nothing to say, for in the first place, she did not think Herbert, as yet at least, was very sensible of his loss, and in the next, she did not quite venture to ask her mother whether she thought little Michael should have been sacrificed to Herbert's expectations. So she took the wiser course of producing a photograph of Vienna. CHAPTER XXIII VELVET Constance created quite a sensation when she came down dressed for church on Christmas Day in a dark blue velvet jacket, deeply trimmed with silver fox, and a hat and muff _en suite_, matching with her serge dress, and though unpretending, yet very handsome. Up jumped Ida, from lacing her boots by the fire. 'Well, I never! They are spoiling you! Real velvet, I declare, and real silk-wadded lining. Look, ma. What made them dress you like that?' 'It wasn't them,' said Constance, 'it was Lady Adela. One Sunday in October it turned suddenly cold, and I had only my cloth jacket, and she sent up for something warm for me. This was just new before she went into black, when husband died, and she had put it away for Amice, but it fitted me so well, and looked so nice, that she was so kind as to wish me to keep it always.' 'Cast-off clothes! That's the insolence of these swells,' said Ida. 'I wonder you had not the spirit to refuse.' 'Sour grapes,' muttered Herbert; while her mother sighed--'Ah, that's what we come to!' 'Must not I wear it, mamma?' said Constance, who had a certain attachment to the beautiful and comfortable garment. 'She told me she had only worn it once in London, and she was so very kind.' 'Oh, if you call it kindness,' said Ida, 'I call it impertinence.' 'If you had only heard--' faltered Constance. 'No, no,' said their mother, 'you could not refuse, of course, my dear, and no one here will know. It becomes her very well too. Doesn't it, Ida?' Ida made a snort. 'If people choose to make a little chit of a schoolgirl ridiculous by dressing her out like that!' she said. 'There isn't time now before church,' said Constance almost tearfully, 'or I would take it off.' 'No such thing,' said Herbert. 'Come on, Conny. You shall walk with me. You look stunning, and I want Westhaven folk to see for once what a lady is like.'