"Ah, well, well!" acknowledged Claire to her heart, "we _did_ like each other. We did love being together, and he remembered me; he sent me the clock when he was away. But it's all over now. That was our last chance, and it's gone. He'll go to the At Home, and Mrs Willoughby will tell him I was asked, but preferred to come when they were alone, and he'll think it was because I wanted to avoid him, and--and, oh, goodness, goodness, goodness! how _miserable_ I shall feel sitting here all Thursday evening, imagining all that is going on! Oh, mother, mother, your poor little girl is _so_ lonesome! Why did you go so far away?" Claire put her head down on the dressing-table, and shed a few tears, a weakness bitterly regretted, for like all weaknesses the consequences wrought fresh trouble. Now her eyelids were red, and she was obliged to hang shivering out of the window, until they had regained their natural colour, before she could face Cecil's sharp eyes. Janet arrived soon after eleven o'clock on Saturday morning, and was shown into the saffron parlour where Claire sat over her week's mending. She wore a spring suit purchased in Paris, and a hat which was probably smart, but very certainly was unbecoming, slanting as it did at a violent angle over her plump, good-humoured face, and almost entirely blinding one eye. She caught sight of her own reflection in the overmantel and exclaimed, "What a fright I look!" as she seated herself by the table, and threw off her furs. "Don't hurry, please. Let me stay and watch. What are you doing? Mending a blouse? How clever of you to be able to use your fingers as well as your brains! I never sew, except stupid fancy-work for bazaars. So this is your room! You told me about the walls. Can you imagine any one in cold blood choosing such a paper? But it looks cosy all the same. I _do_ like little rooms with everything carefully in reach. They are ever so much nicer than big ones, aren't they?" "No." Janet pealed with laughter. "That's right, snub me! I deserve to be snubbed. Of course, I meant when you have big ones as well! Who is the pretty girl in the carved frame? Your mother! Do you mean it, really? What a ridiculous mamma! I'm afraid, Claire, I'm afraid she is even prettier than you!" "Oh, she is; I know it. But I have more charm," returned Claire demurely, whereat they laughed again--a peal of happy girlish laughter, which reached Lizzie's ears as she polished the oilcloth in the hall, and roused an envious sigh. "It's well to be some folks!" thought poor Lizzie. "Motor-cars, and fine dresses, and nothing to do of a Saturday morning but sit still and laugh. I could laugh myself if I was in her shoes!" Claire folded away her blouse, and took up a bundle of gloves. "These are your gloves. They have been such a comfort to me. There's a button missing somewhere. Tell me all about your holiday! Did you have a good time? Was it as nice as you expected?"