‘I meant to have told you mamma, but Mr. Leadbitter came in about the G.F.S. and stopped me, and I have never seen you to speak to since. Yesterday you know, I stayed from evensong to look after the little ones, and you said Dolores might do as she pleased, so she stayed at home. The children were looking at the book of Bible Pictures, and it came out that Dolly knew nothing at all about Joshua and the walls of Jericho, nor Gideon and the lamps in the pitchers, nor anything else. Then, when I was surprised, she said that it was not the present system to perplex children with the myths of ancient Jewish history.’ Gillian was speaking rapidly, in the growing consciousness that her mother had rather have had this communication reserved for her private ear--and her answer was, ‘Poor child!’ ‘Just what I should expect!’ said Aunt Jane. ‘Probably it was jargon half understood, and repeated in defence of her ignorance,’ said Lady Merrifield. ‘She is an odd mixture of defiant loyalty and self-defence.’ ‘What shall you do about this kind of talk?’ asked her sister. ‘One must hear it sooner or later,’ said Harry. ‘That is true,’ returned his mother, ‘but I suppose Fergus and Primrose did not hear or understand.’ ‘Oh no, mamma. I know they did not, for they were squabbling because Primrose wanted to turn over before Fergus had done with Gideon.’ ‘Then I don’t think there is any harm done. If it comes before Mysie or Val I will talk to them, and I mean to take this poor child alone for a little while each day in the week and try to get at her.’ ‘There’s another thing,’ said Gillian. ‘Is she to go down with me always to Casement Cottages on Sunday afternoons when I take the class?’ ‘To teach or to learn?’ ironically exclaimed Aunt Jane. ‘Neither,’ said Gillian. ‘To chatter to Constance Hacket. They both spoke to me about it yesterday before I went home, and I believe Constance has written a note to her to ask her today! Fancy, that goose told me my sweet cousin was a dear, and that we didn’t appreciate her. Even Miss Hacket gave me quite a lecture on kindness and consideration to an orphan stranger.’ ‘Not uncalled for, perhaps,’ said Aunt Jane. ‘I hope you received it in an edifying manner.’ ‘Now, Aunt Jane! Well, I believe I said we were as kind as she would let us be, especially Mysie.’ Lady Merrifield here made the move to conduct her sisters to their rooms; Miss Mohun detained her when they had reached hers, and had left Adeline to rest on her sofa. The two, though very unlike, had still the habits of absolute confidential intimacy belonging to sisters next in age. ‘Lily,’ said Miss Mohun, ‘Gillian spoke of a note. Did Maurice give you any directions about this child’s correspondence?’ ‘You know I did not see him. I was so much disappointed. I would give anything to have talked her over with him.’ ‘I am not sure that you would have gained much. I doubt whether he knows much about her, poor fellow. But the letters?’