"Yes, of course," he said hastily. "There, don't take any notice of what I have said. I am worried--very much worried just now, but all will come right soon." He kissed her hastily and hurried away, leaving Millicent standing thoughtful and troubled till she heard another step on the rough stones, when a calm expression seemed to come over her troubled face, but only to be chased away by one more anxious as the step halted at the door and the bell rang. Meanwhile Julia had run upstairs to her own room, where, facing the door, five very battered dolls sat in a row upon the drawers, at which she dashed full of childish excitement, as if to continue some interrupted game. She stopped short, looked round, and then gave her little foot a stamp. "How tiresome!" she cried pettishly. "It's that nasty, tiresome, disagreeable old Thibs. I hate her, that I do, and--" "Oh, you hate me, do you?" cried the object of her anger appearing in the doorway. "Very well, it don't matter. I don't mind. You don't care for anybody now but Mr Bayle." The child rushed across the room to leap up and fling her arms round Thisbe's neck, as that oddity stood there, quite unchanged: the same obstinate, hard woman who had opposed Mrs Luttrell seven years before. "Don't, don't, don't say such things, Thibs," cried the child, all eagerness and excitement now, the very opposite of the timid, shrinking girl in the breakfast-room a short time before; and as she spoke she covered the hard face before her with kisses. "You know, you dear, darling old Thibs, I love you. Oh, I do love you so very, very much." "I know it's all shim-sham and pea-shucks," said Thisbe, grimly; but, without moving her face, rather bending down to meet the kisses. "No, you don't think anything of the kind, Thibs, and I won't have you looking cross at me like papa." "It's all sham, I tell you," said Thisbe again. "You never love me only when you want anything." "Oh! Thibs!" cried the girl with the tears gathering in her eyes; "how can you say that?" "Because I'm a nasty, hard, cankery, ugly, disagreeable old woman," said Thisbe, clasping the child to her breast; "and it isn't true, and you're my own precious sweet, that you are." "And you took away my box out of the room, when I had to go down to papa." "But you can't have a nasty, great, dirty candle-box in your bedroom, my dear." "But I want it for a doll's house, and I'm going to line it with paper, and--do, Thibs, do, do let me have it, please?" "Oh, very well, I shall have to be getting the moon for you next. I never see such a spoiled child." "Make haste then, before Mr Bayle comes, to go on with my lessons. Quick! quick! where is it?" "In the lumber-room, of course. Where do you suppose it is?"