Up jumped the two boys and a sprite of a girl, who took the hand of little Primrose, a beautiful little maiden with rich chestnut wavy curls. They all paused at the door, the boys making a salute, the girls a little curtsey. Primrose’s was as pretty a little ‘bob’ as ever was seen. ‘I am glad you keep that custom up,’ said Mr. Mohun. ‘Jasper had been brought up to it, and wished it to be the habit among us; and I find it a great protection against bouncing and rudeness.’ But Dolly’s blood boiled at such stupid, antiquated, military nonsense. She would never give in to it, if they made her live on bread and water! The uncle and aunt, who perhaps had lengthened out their breakfast from politeness to her, had finished when she had, and the pony-chaise came to the door, in which Hal was to drive Uncle William to the station. Everybody flocked to the door to bid him good-bye, and then Aunt Lilias stooped down to ask Dolores if she were quite rested and felt quite well, Mysie standing anxiously by as if she felt her a great charge. ‘Quite well, quite rested, thank you,’ the girl answered in her stiff, shy way. ‘There is half an hour to spare before Miss Vincent comes. The children generally spend it in feeding the creatures. I am not going to give a holiday, because I think people get more pleasantly acquainted over something, than over nothing, to do, but you need not begin lessons to-day if you had rather settle your thoughts and write your letters.’ ‘I had rather begin at once,’ said Dolores, who thought she would now establish her pre-eminence at the cost of any amount of jealousy. ‘Very well, then, when you hear the gong--’ ‘Mamma,’ said Mysie solemnly, after long waiting, ‘she says she had rather not be called out of her name.’ ‘I thought you had been called Dolly, my dear.’ ‘Yes, at home,’ with a strong emphasis. ‘Well, my dear, I dare say it may be better to keep to your proper name at once. We won’t take liberties with it, till you feel as if you could call this home,’ said Lady Merrifield, looking as if she would have kissed her niece on the slightest encouragement, but no one ever looked less kissable than Dolores Mohun at that moment. Was it not cruel and hypocritical to talk of this tiresome multitude as ever making home? CHAPTER IV. -- TURNED IN AMONG THEM ‘Do you like pets?’ asked Mysie eagerly, as her mother left the two girls together. ‘I never had any,’ said Dolores. ‘Oh how dreadful! Why, old Cockie, and Aga and Begum, the two oldest pussies, have been everywhere with us. And, besides, there’s Basto, the big Pyrenean dog, and,--oh, here comes little Quiz, mamma’s little Maltese--Quiz, Quiz.’ Dolores started, she did not like either dogs or cats; and the little spun-glass looking dog smelt about her. ‘I must go and feed my guinea-pig,’ said Mysie; ‘won’t you come? Here are some over shoes and Poncho.’