Produced by Chris Curnow, Pamela Patten and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER VOL. XX.—NO. 1004.] MARCH 25, 1899. [PRICE ONE PENNY.] A POINT OF CONSCIENCE. [Illustration: “THE DAINTY PORTFOLIO.”] _All rights reserved._] Miss Colbourne was expecting a visitor to tea. Not to the ordinary lodging-house meal which was prepared for herself every evening, but to a special four o’clock tea, every detail of which was arranged by her own hands. The little copper kettle was purring on the old-fashioned hob, the unsteady round table was covered with a dainty white cloth, and weighted with the silver salver and porcelain cups without handles that had belonged to her grandmother. Hot cakes were keeping warm in front of the fire, and there was a special little jug of cream. The room itself was of a very common type. Carpets and curtains were in clashing shades of crimson, while a green table-cloth disagreed with both. There was the usual profusion of china ornaments with various photographs of the landlady’s friends. Miss Colbourne had inhabited the room for years past. She objected to the ornaments, but respect for her landlady’s feelings enabled her to keep silence and to endure them. Nothing else troubled her. Her own possessions were disposed inartistically enough; books encumbered the sideboard, more lay in piles on the floor. She had few pretty things, and had not the knack of so arranging her surroundings as to make a nest for herself. Her room reminded the onlooker of a temporary halting place—never of a home. She had only just finished her preparations, and was in the act of rolling up an easy-chair close to the fire, when a slight tap at the door was followed by the entrance of the expected visitor. Jessie Blaher was a slim rosy-cheeked girl of sixteen, who had been one of Miss Colbourne’s favourite pupils from the time she was a tiny trot of seven. Lessons had only been given up when Mr. Blaher removed his family into the country. Jessie had not seen her old teacher for more than twelve months. Over tea and cake they talked of the past and present, of books and men. Then Jessie helped to wash up and put away the cherished relics. Miss Colbourne was bringing out some photographs, when she exclaimed— “Oh, I want so much to see the views of Florence that Lena sent you!” “Do you mean the illustrations of _Romola_?” “Yes, please!”