"Oh, yes--yes!" said Nina, "we want frocks, but not cotton ones." "Muslins are quite as cheap," said Brenda. "I shall call them cotton to your father, and will buy muslin dresses for you--a pale pink muslin each--how will they look, _cheries_?" "Sweet, sweet!" said Josephine. "Entrancing!" exclaimed Nina; while Fanchon smacked her lips in anticipation of her own appearance in pink muslin. Now Brenda knew quite well that these sandy-haired young people with freckled faces and flat features would by no means look their best in pink, be it muslin or cotton, but as she meant them to be foils to herself, she decided to leave them in crass ignorance on this point. The very name, pink muslin, had a delicious sound, and, as there was little time to waste, she told the girls that she would excuse lessons that morning and go upstairs to the school-room to make some mental calculations. Then, having estimated the exact amount of money which the different dresses would cost, she would invade the Reverend Josiah at the hour named. That good man was busy preparing his sermon when Brenda's gentle but distinct knock was heard at the door. "I am so sorry to disturb you, sir," she said on entering, and she dropped the prettiest imaginable little curtsey. It was quite old-fashioned, and delighted the rector. "Please don't apologise, Miss Carlton," he said. "You want to speak to me, and I am prepared to listen. What is it all about? I hope my dear girl is not dissatisfied in any way. I know your life here must be a little--a little--dull; but I trust that you are not thinking of leaving us." "Leaving you--my dear kind sir?" replied Brenda. "Far indeed are such ideas from my thoughts. I am nothing but a dependent, and lonely at that. Dear Mr Amberley, have I not heard you talk of your sweet children as orphans? Well, am I not an orphan, too?" "Alas--that it should be the case!" said Mr Amberley. "It is the case. My darling sister and I were left without parents when she was a very little child and I was a young girl. She has been fortunate enough to be admitted into one of the best schools anywhere in this part of England, or indeed, I may say in England at all. I allude to Hazlitt Chase. You must have heard of the name, sir." "Hazlitt Chase?" said Mr Amberley. "Of course I know the name. Lady Sophia L'Estrange has two daughters there--Mary and Juliet. Sweet young girls. Lady Sophia lives about four miles from here. I had not the slightest idea that you had a sister at such a distinguished school, Miss Carlton." "I have that privilege," said Brenda, dropping her eyelids so that her long, curly, black eyelashes could rest in the most becoming manner against her peach-bloomy cheeks. The rector looked at her with admiration. "She certainly is a very sweet creature," he thought. "What is the name of your sister?" he asked, after a moment's pause. "She is called Penelope." "How quaint and old-fashioned!"