Every fibre of her nature rebelling, Rotha sat down to unbutton her boot. It was hard to keep silence, to speak "pleasantly" impossible. Tears were near. Rotha bent over her boot and prayed for help. And then the thought came, fragrant and sweet,--I am the servant of Christ; this is an opportunity to obey and please _him_. And with that she was content. She put on the coarse stockings, which felt extremely uncomfortable. But then she could not get her boot on. She tugged at it in vain. "It is no use," she said at last. "It will not go on, aunt Serena. I cannot wear my boots with these stockings." "The boots must be too small," said Mrs. Busby. She came herself, and pushed and pinched and pulled at the boot. It would not go on. "What do you get such tight-fitting boots for?" she said, sitting back on the floor, quite red in the face. "They are not tight; they fit me perfectly." "They won't go on!" "That is the stockings." "Nonsense! The stockings are proper; the boots are improper. What did you pay for them?" "I did not get them." "What did they cost, then? I suppose you know." "Six and a half." "I can get you for three and a half what will do perfectly," said Mrs. Busby, rising up from the floor. But she sat down, and did not fetch any boots, as Rotha half expected she would. "What are you going to do to-morrow, Rotha?" her cousin asked. "I don't know. What I do every day, I suppose," Rotha answered, trying to make her voice clear. "What is Mrs. Mowbray going to do?" "I do not know." "I wonder if she receives? Mamma, do you fancy many people would call on Mrs. Mowbray?" "Why not?" Rotha could not help asking. "O, because she is a school teacher, you know. Mamma, do you think there would?" "I dare say. Your father will go, I have no doubt." "O, because she teaches me. And other fathers will go, I suppose. What a stupid time they will have!" "Who?" said Rotha. "All of you together. I am glad I'm not there." "I shall not be there either. I shall be up stairs in my room." "Looking at your Russia leather bag. Why didn't you bring it for us to see? But your room means three or four other people's room, don't it?" It was on Rotha's lips to say that she had a room to herself; she shut them and did not say it. A sense of fun began to mingle with her inward anger. Here she was in her stockings, unable to get her feet into her boots. "How am I to get home, ma'am?" she asked as demurely as she could. "Antoinette, haven't you a pair of old boots or shoes, that Rotha could get home in?" "What should I do when I got there? I could not wear old boots about the house. Mrs. Mowbray would not like it." "Nettie, do you hear me?" Mrs. Busby said sharply. "Get something of yours to put on Rotha's feet."