“Young ladies,” said Polly, “I’ve not come in any bad spirit. I don’t deny as I’ve passed many a day here. My family (though always far above the dressmaking) was not well off, and I shall always be thankful to think as I did my best for them. But now that I’m married, in a different position,” said Polly, “though always ready to stand your friend, when you want a friend, or to recommend you among the Abbey ladies, you can’t think as I can go on with you like you were in my own sphere. Where there’s no equality there can’t be no friendship. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind opening a window? It’s rather early to put on my sealskin, but one never knows at this time of the year--and I’m ’eated with my walk. Send Mrs. Welting to me, please.” There was a great commotion among the girls. The two passive ones stood with open mouth, struck dumb by this magnificence. “Lor!” cried Kate, finding no other word that could express her emotion. Emma, though she was the youngest, was the most vehement of all. “I know what she’s come for. She’s come to make mischief,” cried Emma. “I wouldn’t fetch mother. I wouldn’t go a step. Let her speak straight out what she’s got to say.” “There’s reason in everything,” said Ellen. “You mayn’t mean to keep us up like friends. Just as you like, I’m sure; none of us is wanting to keep it up; but mother takes no hand in the business, and that you know as well as me.” “Send Mrs. Welting to me,” cried Polly, waving her hand majestically. She did not condescend to any further reply. She leant back on her chair and unfastened her beloved mantle at the throat. Then she 5 got out a laced handkerchief and fanned herself. “Me that thought it was so cold,” Polly remarked to herself, “and it’s like summer!” She did not pay any further attention to the young women, who consulted together with great indignation and excitement at a little distance. “What can she have to say to mother? I wouldn’t call mother, not if she was to sit there for a week,” said Emma, who had a presentiment as to the subject of the visit. “Lord! just look at her in her sealskin,” interrupted Kate, who could think of nothing else. But Ellen, who was the serious one, paused and hesitated. “We can’t tell what it may be--and if it turned out to be a job, or something she had got us from some of the Abbey ladies! She’s not bad natured,” said Ellen, full of doubts. All this time Polly waved her handkerchief about, with its edge of lace, fanning herself. She looked at no one--she was too much elevated above all the associations of the place to deign to take any notice. Had not she always been above it? With her disengaged hand she smoothed the fur of her sealskin, rubbing it knowingly upward. She was altogether unconscious of their talk and discussion. What could _they_ have in common with Mrs. Despard? To see her, if any of her former associates had been cool enough to notice it, was still “as good as a play.”