She looked very mysterious and the other girls glanced at her, not particularly, however, troubling themselves with regard to her appearance. It was Nina's _role_ to be sometimes the mere baby--the most kittenish, babyish thing on earth--and at other times to be inscrutable like the Sphinx. But these things did not really matter to her sisters, who, as they expressed it, saw through her little games. On this occasion, she suddenly darted from her seat and ran out of the room. She had caught sight of the somewhat greasy coat of the Reverend Josiah, who had returned unexpectedly and was passing the window on his way to his study. "There's papa!" screamed Nina--"the very man I want. I'll be back by-and-by." "What can she be up to now? Little minx!" said Fanchon. "Dear, dear! do you like those pink muslins, Josie? I can't say that I do." "I don't think about them," said Josephine. "Whatever we wear, we look frights." "Well, sometimes--sometimes I think that dear Brenda rather likes us to look frights," said Fanchon. "I ought not to say it, for she really has been very good to me--particularly last night--and I believe our best policy at present is to humour her up to the top of her bent. Then if she could get engaged, and were married--" "Engaged! and married!" cried Josephine. "What _do_ you mean, Fanchon?" "Well--that is what she expects. There's a _he_ somewhere in the world who seems to want her, and she thinks he'll be at Marshlands-on-the-Sea, and--and--it _will_ be fun to watch them together. Little Nina shall creep into the bushes behind them in the evening and listen to what they are saying--what a joke that'll be!" "Yes, of course," said Josephine, brightening up very much, "it'll tell us the sort of thing that goes on and prepare us for our own turns," she added. Fanchon laughed. "Girls like us sometimes have no turns," she continued, "that's the worst of it. Red hair and freckles _are_ so hopeless--you can never dress up to them; everything depends on how you dress, and somehow, it can't be done--at least, that is what Brenda says." "Would you really be glad if Brenda were to leave us?" asked Josephine. "I think I should--_I_ should be mistress here then, and of course papa, who is so devoted to her, would give her a good wedding and that _would_ be sport--and we'd have to have nice frocks for that, and that would be sport too!" "Oh, yes--on the whole it would be nice for Brenda to go, only some one else horrid might take her place." "Well, don't let's sit here any longer in this choking hot room. Let us go into the garden: we have no lessons of any sort to-day. We can get out the frills of our muslins and continue hemming them."