"But no," cried Mademoiselle, "that is _imposseeble_ to exaggerate the so great glories of Castle Beverley! It cannot be done. I have heard it described, and I was ravished with what I was told." "I have been there," said Brenda. "I have spent the day; my sister is a special friend of Miss Beverley." "Not so very special," whispered Mademoiselle, something like a little snake at that moment, in Brenda's ear. Brenda turned and looked full at her. Their eyes met. It seemed at that instant that these two--the young girl and the experienced woman--crossed swords, and that Brenda got the worst of the encounter. There was a pause for a minute. Then she said, quietly: "I don't know with regard to the depth of the friendship, but I only know that my sweet sister Penelope is staying at the Castle, and that it is--oh, well--a very nice sort of place. I _could_ imagine more beautiful places." "Windsor Castle, perhaps," whispered Mademoiselle, at which remark Miss Price tittered audibly. "But tell us, dear," said Mrs Simpkins. "I have been thinking all day about it. I assure you that the thought of your return has kept me up although the heat is fearful, and Georgie is so cross, and little Peter cutting another tooth--oh dear! Of course I love my children, but sometimes they seem to do things just to spite you; for the doctor told me flat that Peter's eye-teeth would not be due for another two months, and I made certain that we'd have our seaside holiday over before he began on it. The aggravation of eye-teeth is almost past bearing. I often say if a woman can live through the eye-teeth of her children, she'll live through anything. But there--I am digressing. Go on, Miss Carlton, do." "What did you have to eat?" said Mrs Dawson. "Was there anything that specially took your fancy?" "Ah, yes--tell us that!" cried Mademoiselle, "for I could copy it for these dear, most select and amiable ladies. I should so love to give them the benefit of my French experience." "I don't know what we had to eat," said Brenda. "Perhaps Nina could tell you to-morrow--she is our greedy one." "Poor little thing!" said Mrs Simpkins. "You've let her off her accounts, I see, and that's a blessing. Now, Miss Carlton, you won't take it amiss, but if you will allow a motherly body like myself to speak, you won't be too harsh with that poor child. She's a good child, and means well; and why in the name of goodness she should be pestered with that account-book and pencil at all hours of the day beats me." "Is this what would be so called a secret?" asked Mademoiselle, "for, if so, I will--to speak in the figurative way--stop up my ears." "Oh, no," said Brenda, "it is nothing: I am teaching my youngest pupil a lesson, and these ladies--even dear Mrs Simpkins--fail to understand." "Ah--how I you do admire!" said Mademoiselle. "I also have my methods. We, dear Miss Carlton, will have much in common. We will talk together of our pupils and our wrongs."