‘And a wonder it is, my sweet angel,’ said that lady, indignantly, rising and glancing at the pretty girl, now so pale and sad-looking, ‘it’s once in a blue moon as he comes ‘ome, a--leaving you to mope at home like a broken-hearted kitten in a coal box. Ah, if he only had a liver, that would teach him manners.’ Groans of assent from the Misses Pulchops, who both had livers and were always fighting with them. ‘And what, my neglected cherub,’ asked Mrs Pulchop, going to a looking-glass which always hung in the kitchen, for the three to examine their tongues in, ‘what shall I give you for dinner?’ Kitty suggested a fowl, macaroni cheese, and fruit for dessert, which bill of fare had such an effect on the family that they all groaned in unison. ‘Macaroni cheese,’ growled Topsy, speaking from the very depth of the cork soles she wore to keep her feet dry; ‘there’s nothing more bilious. I couldn’t look at it.’ ‘Ah,’ observed Mrs Pulchop, ‘you’re only a weak gal, and men is that obstinate they’d swaller bricks like ostriges sooner nor give in as it hurt ‘em. You shall ‘ave a nice dinner, Mrs Vanloops, tho’ I can’t deny but what it ull be bilious.’ Thus warned, Kitty retired into her own room and made herself nice for Gaston to look on when he came. Poor thing, it was so rarely now that he came home to dinner, that a visit from him was regarded by her in the light of a treat. She dressed herself in a pretty white dress and tied a blue sash round her waist, so that she might look the same to him as when he first saw her. But her face was now worn and white, and as she looked at her pallor in the glass she wished she had some rouge to bring a touch of colour to her cheeks. She tried to smile in her own merry way at the wan reflection she beheld, but the effort was a failure, and she burst into tears. At six o’clock everything was ready for dinner, and having seen that all was in good order, Kitty walked outside to watch for Gaston. There was a faint, warm, light outside, and the sky was of a pale opaline tint, while the breeze blowing across the garden brought the perfume of the flowers to her, putting Kitty in mind of Mrs Villiers’ garden at Ballarat. Oh, those innocent days! would they never come again? Alas! she knew that they would not--the subtle feeling of youth had left her for ever; and this girl, leaning up against the house with her golden head resting on her arm, knew that the change had come over her which turns all from youth to age.