Gillian came forward and said, ‘Mamma, may we know what is the matter?’ ‘I hardly understand it myself yet, my dear, only that Dolores and Constance Hacket have let themselves be taken in by a sort of relation of Dolores’s mother, and Uncle Maurice has lost a good deal of money through it. It would not have happened if there had been fair and upright dealing towards me; but we do not know the rights of it, and you had better take no notice of it to her.’ ‘I thought,’ said Valetta, sagaciously, ‘no good could come of running after that stupid Miss Constance.’ ‘Who can’t pull a cracker, and screams at a daddy long-legs,’ added Fergus. ‘But, mamma, what shall we do?’ said Gillian. ‘I came away because Uncle Regie told us, and Constance was crying so terribly; but what is poor Miss Hacket to do? There is the tree only half dressed, and all the girls coming to-night, unless she puts them off.’ ‘Yes, you had better go down alone as soon as dinner is over, and see what she would like,’ said Lady Merrifield. ‘We must not leave her in the lurch, as if we cast her off, though I am afraid Constance has been very foolish in this matter. Oh, Gillian, I wish we could have made Dolores happier amongst us, and then this would not have happened.’ ‘She would never let us, mamma,’ said Gillian. But Mysie, coming up close to her mother as they all went up the broad staircase to prepare for the midday meal, confessed in a grave little voice, ‘Mamma, I think I have sometimes been cross to Dolly-more lately, because it has been so very tiresome.’ Lady Merrifield drew the little girl into her own room, stooped down, and kissed her, saying, ‘My dear child, these things need a great deal of patience. You will have to be doubly kind and forbearing now, for she must be very unhappy, and perhaps not like to show it. You might say a little prayer for her, that God will help us to be kind to her, and soften her heart.’ ‘Oh yes, mamma; and, please, will you set it down for me?’ ‘Yes, my dear, and for myself too. You shall have it before bed-time.’ Aunt Jane had followed Dolores to her own room the girl, who was sitting on her bed, dazed, regretted that she had not bolted her door, as her aunt entered with the words, ‘Oh, Dolores, I am very sorry I could not have thought you would so have abused the confidence that was placed in you.’ To this Dolores did not answer. To her mind she was the person ill-used by the prohibition of correspondence, but she could not say so. Every one was falling on her; but Aunt Jane’s questions could not well help being answered. ‘What will your father think of if?’ ‘He never forbade me to write to Uncle Alfred’ said Dolores. ‘Because he never thought of your doing such a thing. Did he give you this cheque?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘For yourself?’ ‘N-n-o. But it was the same.’ ‘What do you mean by that?’ ‘It was to pay a man--a man’s that’s dead.’ ‘That may be; but what right did that give you to spend the money otherwise? Who was the man?’