"When I am grown up," thought the child, "I shall be a real one. I mean to do something very big, very great, very grand. I am preparing--I know I am preparing--all this time." Christian also hurried past the schoolroom, which was quite comfortable and snugly furnished, with big fires in the grates. She passed the next floor, and presently found herself on the one where the drawing rooms were situated. Here, beyond the two great drawing rooms, was a small and very comfortable boudoir. The door of the room was slightly open, and Christian observed that heavy curtains were drawn across the windows. The logs on the fire blazed up merrily and a grateful breath of heat came out to the child. Christian went in at once and stood by the fire. She had just begun to thaw when she heard footsteps approaching. Now, if she made for the door she would certainly meet the intruder. This was not to be borne. She flew across the room, pushed aside the heavy curtains which sheltered one of the windows, and curling herself up on the window ledge, was completely lost to view. There were double windows and shutters, and the shutters were fastened. There was, therefore, not the slightest draught, and the window ledge itself was soft with cushions, and had a down pillow at one end. Christian had often lain there before to sleep. The little nook was warm and, compared with the attic, most comfortable. She cuddled herself up amongst the cushions and lay quiet. Of course, she would not stay long; she would just get warm, and then go upstairs to her lessons. But the footsteps she had heard did not enter the room, and presently drowsiness stole over her and she fell asleep. When she awoke it was to the sound of voices. She raised herself very carefully, taking care not to make the slightest noise, and, dividing the curtains about a quarter of an inch, peeped out. Her mother, Mrs. Mitford, was sitting near the fire with her back to Christian. She was a pretty little woman, very young-looking for her age, and dressed in the height of fashion. A tempting looking tea equipage stood on a small table near, and as Christian watched, her mother raised a small silver teapot and poured out a cup of tea. She handed it across to a lady whom Christian knew well and hated violently. She was a certain Miss Neil, who often visited her mother. Christian had long ago pronounced Miss Neil a frumpy, tiresome, cross old woman. "I do dislike her!" she said now to herself. "I wonder my darling mumsy can stand her." As the child watched she saw Miss Neil help herself to a piece of buttered toast, and at the same time her mother said: "Whatever happens, I shall give her a first-rate outfit; I have made up my mind to that." Christian's heart made a great bound. She dropped back into the shadow, making a slight creaking noise as she did so. Mrs. Mitford glanced round her nervously. "Don't you hear someone in the room, Julia?"