She made a little face at me, as though the question bothered her. 'Oh, I do things, and Gladys--does things,' rather lucidly. 'Well, but what things, may I ask?' 'Why do you want to know?' was the unexpected retort. 'I don't question you, do I? Giles says women are dreadfully curious.' 'I think you are dreadfully mysterious; but, as you are evidently ashamed of your occupations, I will withdraw my question.' 'I do believe you are cross, Miss Garston: you are not a saint, after all, though Giles says you sing like a cherub: I don't know where he ever heard one, but that is his affair. Well, as you choose to get pettish over it, I will be amiable, and tell you what we do. Etta says we waste our time dreadfully, but as it is our time and not hers, it is none of her business.' I thought it prudent to remain silent, so she wrinkled her brows and looked perplexed. 'Gladys--let me see what Gladys does: well, she used to teach in the schools, but she does not teach now; she says the infants make her head ache; that is why she has dropped the Sunday-school. Now Etta has her class. Then there was the mothers' meeting; well, I never knew why she gave that up,--I wonder if she knows herself,--but Etta has got it. And she has left off singing at the penny readings and village entertainments; Etta would have replaced her there, only she has no voice. I think she works a little for the poor people at the East End of London, but she does it in her own room, because Etta laughs at her and calls her 'Madam Charity.' Gladys hates that. She takes long walks, and sketches a little, and reads a good deal; and--there, that is all I know of her majesty's doings.' Poor Miss Hamilton! it certainly did not sound much of a life. 'And about yourself, Lady Betty?' 'Oh, Lady Betty is here, there, and everywhere,' mimicking me in a droll way. 'Lady Betty walks a little, talks a little, plays a little, and dances when she gets a chance. At present, lawn-tennis is a great object in her life; last winter, swimming in Brill's bath and riding from Hove to Kemp Town or across the Brighton Downs were her hobbies. In the summer a gardening craze seized her, and just now she is in an idle mood. What does it matter? a short life and a merry one,--eh, Miss Garston?' I would not expostulate with this civilised little heathen, for she was evidently bent on provoking a lecture, and I determined to disappoint her. We had sat so long over our tea that the room was quite dark, and I rose to kindle the lamp. Lady Betty, as usual, was anxious to assist me, and went to the window to lower the blind. The next moment I heard an exclamation of annoyance, and as she came back to the table her little brown face was all aglow with some suppressed irritation. 'What is the matter, Lady Betty?' I asked, in some surprise. 'It is that provoking Etta again,' she began. 'She has guessed where I am, and has sent for me, the meddlesome old--' But here a tap at our room door stopped her outburst.