"Pleasant! She's as pleasant as a mustard plaster, and as sweet as cayenne pepper. I'll tell you, Miss Farren; you're a stranger; you may as well know what you have to expect--" "Hush, girls!" "What's the matter?" said the Dunstable, looking round. "There's nobody near. Jewett has gone off into the other room. No, it is a work of charity to let Miss Farren into the secrets of her prison house, 'cause there are two sides to every game. Mrs. M. is a tyrannical, capricious, hypocritical, domineering, fiery old cat. O she's fiery; you have got to take care how you rise up and sit down; and she's stiff, she thinks there's only one way and that's her way; and she's unjust, she has favourites--" "They all have favourites!" here put in another. "She has ridiculous favourites. And she is pious, you'll be deluged with the Bible and prayers; and she's sanctimonious, you won't get leave to go to the opera or the theatre, or to do anything lively; and she's stingy, you'll learn that you must take all the potatoes you want the first time the dish is handed you, for it won't come a second time; and she's prudish, she won't let you receive visitors; and she's passionate, she'll fly out like a volcano if you give her a chance; and she's obstinate, she'll be as good--or as bad--as her word." By this time Rotha had sprung to her feet, with ears tingling and cheeks burning, and stood there like Abdiel among the fallen angels, only indeed that is comparing great things with small She was less patient and prudent than Abdiel might have been. "Miss Farren," she said, speaking with the calmness of intensity, "there is not one bit of truth in all that Miss Dunstable has been saying to you." The young lady addressed looked in surprise at the new speaker. Rotha's indignant eyes were sending out angry fires. The other girls looked on too, in scorn and anger, but some awe. "Miss Carpenter is polite!" said one. "Her sort," said another, "What you might expect from her family." "She is a favourite herself," cried a third. "Of course, Mrs. M. is smooth as butter to her." "You may say what you like of me," said Rotha; "but you shall not tell a stranger all sorts of false things about Mrs. Mowbray, without my telling her that they are false." "Don't speak so loud!" whispered a stander-by; but Sotha went on, overpowering and silencing her opponents for the moment by the moral force of her passionate utterance,--