The heart of Marion Greaves smote her. She had a genuine affection for Ellen Munro--the affection that is born of custom and propinquity. They had known each other for so many years, and had been through so much together, and having no daughter of her own Marion was deeply, if tiresomely, interested in Ellen's only girl. As Trixie's godmother she felt doubly entitled to speak her mind on the subject of Trixie's faults. She never hesitated to tell the girl she was vain and selfish and rebellious; that, though it might be true she dusted the drawing-room and darned her own stockings, she ought also to darn her mother's, and help in the kitchen and bedrooms as well, not to speak of making some sort of attempt to keep down current expenses, instead of straining her mother's income to breaking point with her gaieties and her clothes. Unknown to Trixie, Mrs. Greaves had more than once helped Ellen through a difficulty with a so-called loan, which was afterwards transformed into a Christmas or a birthday present, despite Mrs. Munro's grateful protests; and if, in return, Marion claimed the right to say what she thought, Mrs. Munro felt that the least she could do was to submit amiably to the raps of home truths. Trixie, however, was not so accommodating, and when Mrs. Greaves was expected to tea she generally contrived to have a pressing engagement elsewhere. Even the miserable weather to-day had not inclined her to listen to her mother's supplications that she should stay at home for once to see "Gommie." "I have some regard for my nose," she had declared, "and I should certainly get it bitten off altogether if I gave Gommie the chance this afternoon." Now, while Ellen Munro wept, Marion Greaves put more coal on the fire and stirred up a cheerful blaze. She also pulled down the blinds and drew the curtains. "There," she said, "that's better. Have some more tea, Ellen," she added remorsefully, "and don't mind what I say. I know as well as you do that there's no real harm in the child. It's only a question if George Coventry will realise it when she is his wife, and make allowances for her youth and high spirits. If he manages her judiciously, I don't doubt that she will respond, for I must own that, with all her faults, the child has an honest nature. After all, you have done what seems to you best, and nobody can do more. They must take their chance of understanding each other. Only you ought to give Trixie a _good_ talking to before she goes out to India." Mrs. Greaves felt torn between sympathy for Ellen and apprehension for Trixie's future. "Now, what about the trousseau? Of course, she gets a sum down for that from the fund, which is a comfort, and I will give her a cheque to get what she likes as my wedding present."