Harriet was a person of varied interests, all of which she discussed with Beth impartially. She had many lovers, according to her own account, and was stern and unyielding with them all, and so particular that she would dismiss them at any moment for nothing almost. If she went out at night she had always much to tell the next morning, and Beth would hurry over her lessons, watch her mother out of the way, and slip into the kitchen or upstairs after Harriet, and question her about what she had said, and he had said, and if she had let him kiss her even once. "Well, last night," Harriet said on one occasion, in a tone of apology for her own weakness and good-nature. "Last night I couldn't 'elp it. 'E just put 'is arm round me, and, well, there! I was sorry for 'im." "Why don't you say _he_ and _him_ and _his_, Harriet?" "I do." "No, you don't. You say 'e and 'im and 'is." "Well, that's what you say." Beth shouted the aspirates at her for answer, but in vain; with all the will in the world to "talk fine," as she called it, Harriet could never acquire the art, for want of an ear to hear. She could not perceive the slightest difference between him and 'im. Even at this age Beth had her own point of view in social matters, and frequently disconcerted Harriet by a word or look or inflection of the voice which expressed disapproval of her conduct. Harriet had been at home on one occasion for a week's holiday, a charwoman having done her work in her absence, and on her return she had much to relate of Charles Russell, the groom at Fairholm, who continued to be an ardent admirer of hers, but not an honourable one, because he did not realise what a very superior person Harriet was. He thought she was no better than other girls, and when they were sitting up one night together in her mother's cottage, the rest of the family having gone to bed, he made her a proposal which Harriet indignantly rejected. "And ah _ses_ to 'im, 'Charles _Russell_,' ah ses to 'im, 'not was it ever so,' ah ses to 'im"--she was proceeding emphatically when Beth interrupted her. "Did you say you sat up with him alone all night?" she asked. "Yes, there's no 'arm, you know," Harriet answered on the defensive, without precisely knowing why. "Well, what did he say?" Beth rejoined without comment. But Harriet, put out of countenance, omitted the details, and brought the story to an abrupt conclusion. Another of Harriet's interests in life was the _Family Herald_, which she took regularly, and as regularly read aloud to Beth, to the best of her ability--from the verses to "Violet," or "My own Love," on the first page, to the "Random Readings" on the last. They laughed at the jokes, tried to guess the riddles, were impressed with the historical anecdotes and words of wisdom, and became so hungry over the recipes for good dishes that they frequently fried eggs and potatoes, or a slice stolen from the joint roasting at the fire, and feasted surreptitiously.