‘Oh, the time,’ cried Millicent, breaking in impatiently,--‘the time, you know, for the will. As if you did not know all about it! Oh, you need not be afraid to trust us. Ben Renton was not so careful; he told me everything about it. I must tell you that we saw a great deal of Ben at one time,’ Millicent added, with one of her vain looks. Mary says it might have been called an arch look by a more favourable critic. ‘He was, in short, you know, a little mad--but you will say that was my fault.’ ‘I have no more to do with my cousin’s private affairs than I have with Mr. Rich’s,’ said Mary; ‘indeed, I wish you would not tell me. My cousin is not a man to like to have his affairs talked about. I would rather not hear any more.’ ‘Miss Westbury is quite right, Millicent,’ said Mrs. Tracy, ‘and shows a great deal of delicacy. She is always such a thoughtless child, my dear. She never stops to think what she is going to say. The harm it has done her, too, if she could only see it! Millicent, my darling, if you would but learn some of Miss Westbury’s discretion! But it will be pleasant for you to have your cousins home again, I am sure.’ To this artful question Mary gave no answer at all. Indignation began to strengthen her. She sat still, with an air which any well-bred woman knows how to assume when necessary,--an air of polite submission to whatever an unwelcome visitor may choose to say. It neither implies assent nor approbation, but,--it is not worth while to contradict you. Such was the expression on Mary’s face. ‘Ah, mamma, Mary has not such a warm heart for old friends as I have,’ said Millicent at last. ‘I have been raving about coming to see her for weeks back, but she does not care to see me. She is indifferent to her old friends.’ ‘Were we ever old friends?’ said Mary. ‘I don’t remember. You were older than I was. I thought you were very pretty, as everybody did, but----’ ‘But you did not like me. Oh, I am used to that from women,’ said Millicent, with a mocking laugh; and she actually rose to her feet to go away. And the colour rushed into Mary’s face. Used to that from women! because of her beauty, which transcended theirs! The ordinary reader will think it was a self-evident proposition, but Mary was of a different opinion, being thus directly and personally accused. ‘I don’t know about women,’ she said, indignantly; ‘but I have never had any occasion,--to be jealous of you.’ This was said with a fierceness which Mary never could have attained to had it been simply true. ‘I admire you very much,’ she added, with a little vehemence. ‘I did so at school; but that does not alter the truth. We were never great friends.’ ‘Well, it is kind of you to put me in mind of that,’ said Millicent. ‘Mamma, come. You see it is as I told you. We shall find no nice neighbours at Renton. It is best to go away.’