She did not look too pleased. Brenda was quick to recognise the fact, and, as the boys had all dispersed, she did not find the rest of the day so agreeable as she had hoped, although the girls did their very utmost for their visitors. The little Amberleys were really enjoying themselves. Even Fanchon forgot that she was anything but a small and ignorant girl. She shrieked with laughter when Josie did, and as to Nina, she romped round and round wildly with her red hair in its crooked plait and still tied at the end by the piece of string; for all the children had forgotten the piece of ribbon which was to have graced it at lunch. Brenda almost cried when she saw her pupil. Her first impulse was to call the child to her side, but she restrained herself. She was in too bad humour to care. Nothing that could be done would ever make the Amberleys look the least like the Hungerfords or the Beverleys, or the Beverleys' friends. There was Mary L'Estrange, with her interesting face, and there was Cara Burt, who looked both haughty and distinguished. Even she herself was nobody in the midst of this group. But the strange thing was that Penelope, whom no one took any trouble about, whose dress was of the very plainest imaginable, seemed quite at her ease and was perfectly friendly with all the other girls. "But she's such a plain little thing," thought Brenda. "Of course she is wonderfully fair, but then she has no colour anywhere, nor any distinguished touches, and that white linen drew doesn't suit her one bit. But all the same, she looks as I don't look--I wish I could make it out--I hate being in this place, and yet, I must make myself agreeable, for I want them to ask me again and again." The long day came to an end, as the longest, brightest days will. There was early supper for the children, who did not partake of late dinner with their elders. This fact alone somewhat offended Brenda, who thought that there might have been an exception made in her favour; and after supper, when it was really cool and delightful, Honora came up to the young lady's side and asked her what hour she would like the wagonette to come round. "It is our small wagonette, but it'll hold you four nicely," she said. "Father tells me that you forgot to order your carriage to return, and of course we are delighted to send you back to Marshlands." "I should like your carriage at any time that suits yourself," replied Brenda. "Will eight o'clock do?" asked Honora. Brenda made a careful calculation. Harry would probably be going on the Esplanade about eight or soon after. She was quite determined that the coachman should drive them round in that direction. She meant the coachman to draw up in order that she might speak to Harry. That, at least, she might achieve at the end of her long and unsatisfactory day.