daughter of a very great professor? But, anyhow,you may call me Lilian; you may drop the Lady. Now go on."

  "I wish you wouldn't begin to praise _her_."

  "Oh, then, you don't like her? You are one of those naughty littlegirls who won't take to her dear step-mother. Dear, dear!"

  "She is as good as gold," I said.

  "I see what it is," said Lady Lilian; "you and I must have a long talk.We must be friends. Have we not talked together over the lost Salviati?Have we not both sighed over the _mal-a-propos_ remarks of my dearmamma? We ought to be friends. Don't I wish to have your looks? Anddoubtless you wish to have mine? Why shouldn't we be friends?"

  "Let us," I said. I was bewitched, charmed. I had forgotten my shynessand felt quite at home with her. In fact, as Lady Lilian went ontalking I felt rather superior to her. It was the first time in all mylife I had regarded my plainness as a distinct and most valuableacquisition.

  "That's all right. I'll introduce you to mamma. Come along now thisvery minute; she is rising to go."

  "But I sha'n't see much of you, for I am going to school on the 21st."

  "To school! Heavens! Why?"

  "My step-mother wishes it."

  "Poor little thing! I see. And where?"

  I mentioned the school. Her eyes brightened.

  "Oh, you are going there?" she said. "Then I don't think I do pity you.I was there for a year; it's an awfully nice place, and there are someof my own friends there. I'll write and tell them about you. Oh! comealong; there is mamma at the door."

  She took my hand. The Countess of Derwent was just saying adieu toanother intimate acquaintance who had entered the room as soon as Lilianand I had betaken ourselves into the back drawing-room. She turned whenshe saw her daughter.

  "Come, Lilian. I am going. Say good-bye to Lady Anne."

  "First," said Lilian in her calmest voice, "let me introduce you to theHorror."

  She drew me forward. The poor Countess's face became crimson.

  "The what?" she said.

  "Oh, you called her that yourself when you were congratulating dearGrace on having a husband and ready-made children. Well, this is thegirl, and she is a perfect darling, a deliverer for me out of my worstfit of the dumps."

  "Oh, but they call me Dumps," I could not help saying.

  "Better and better," said Lady Lilian.--"Now, mother, here she is; judgefor yourself."

  "I must really apologise, Miss Grant," said the Countess. "I mustapologise most humbly. I had no idea you were in the room."

  "There's nothing to apologise for," I answered. "I am awfully obligedto you, for Lady Lilian wouldn't have spoken to me but for your sayingthat. And you had a right to say it, for I expect I am a horror."

  "I am sure you are nothing of the sort--Lilian, my dear Lilian."

  Lady Lilian tripped back.

  "Ask this child to tea to-morrow.--Come, won't you, Miss--Grant? Nowgood-bye, my dear; you are a very nice, forgiving sort of girl.Good-bye.--Come, Lilian--come!"

  PART TWO, CHAPTER EIGHT.

  GOING TO SCHOOL.

  All the preparations for school had been made, and it was the day beforeI was to leave. My trunks--I had several now--were packed. Augusta wascoming too, and so was Hermione. Hermione had come to spend the lastevening with us in the old house behind the great college. She was verymuch interested and highly pleased.

  The last fortnight of my time at home had gone on wings. Lady LilianSt Leger had lifted me into a new world. She was a daring, bright,true-hearted girl. She did not mind treating me with a sort of playfullightness which was very refreshing after the stifling time I had spentin that awful drawing-room; but she also had said good-bye.

  "We shall meet in the holidays," she said. "I shall see you sometimes.I am to come out as soon as ever I am presented, and I'll be presentedat the first Drawing-room. After that it will be nothing but rush andtumult; I'll be wishing myself dead all the time, for there will be nohope of anything. I am going to make up my mind to accept the first manwho proposes for me."

  "Oh, but you won't do that!" I said, for I had very primitive and verysacred ideas on such topics.

  "Oh, just to get rid of the thing! I only trust he'll be young and poorand ugly. If he is young and poor and ugly, and I fall madly in lovewith him, there'll be such a rumpus, and that would be a rare bit offun. But dear, darling mamma will have to give way, because I canalways make her do what I like."

  "But your father?" I said.

  "Oh, I'll manage him too."

  Thus she talked and chattered; but she was not out yet. She was verygood-natured, and told me a great deal about the school.

  "I do envy your going there," she said. "I wish I was fifteen. And youare so jolly honest-looking and so downright plain. I do think you areunfairly equipped for this life, Dumps."

  She would never call me anything else now; I was Dumps to her--herdarling, plain, practical, jolly Dumps. That was how she spoke of me.She had written to the girls whom she knew at the school, and had toldme to be sure to introduce myself as her very dearest friend, as hernewest and dearest.

  "They will embrace you; they will take you into their bosoms for mysake," she said.

  I am afraid I was very much enamoured of Lady Lilian; she was the typeof girl who would excite the admiration of any one. Even Hermione, whoknew her quite well, and whom I had liked in many ways until I met LadyLilian, seemed commonplace and spiritless beside her.

  But Hermione, Augusta, and I were to go to school together. Of coursewe would be friends. A lady, a special chaperon, was to take us acrossthe Channel; we would start on the following morning, and should arrivein Paris in the evening. I was excited now it came to the point Hannahmet me on the last evening as I was going upstairs. She was standingjust beside a corner of my own landing. She sprang out on me.

  "Hannah," I said, "you did give me a start."

  She laid her hand on my arm.

  "Let me come into your room with you," she said.

  I asked her to do so. She came up and spoke to me emphatically.

  "You are going. When you go she will go too."

  "She?"

  "Your own mother. She won't stay another minute. The house will belongto the new queen; but Hannah won't put up with it. I gave her noticethis morning."

  "Hannah, you didn't."

  "I did, my dear--I did. I said, `You are turning the child out, and theold woman goes too.'"

  "Then you won't stay for the sake of the boys?"

  "No, I won't; they can manage for themselves, even Master Charley andeven beautiful Master Alex. I will say, anyhow, she wasn't a bitunkind. She was very nice; I will say that for her. She's a very nicewoman, and under other circumstances I'd be inclined to like her. Butthere! she's the new queen, and my heart is with the old one."

  Poor Hannah burst into tears; I had never seen her so overcome before.

  "You will come back belonging to the house as it will be in the future.You are too young not to grow up in the new house; but I'm too old,child. I'll never forget the old ways."

  "Hannah, fudge!" said a voice behind; and turning round, I was amazed,and I must say rather disgusted, to see my brother Charley.

  "Look here," he said, "this is all stuff and nonsense. We are as jollyas we can be, and our step-mother is as good as gold, and why should wemake mischief? As to the old times--now I'll tell you what it is,Hannah, they were detestable."

  Charley made his bow, winking at me and vanishing.

  "Just like him," said Hannah.

  "There's a good deal of truth in what he says, Hannah."

  "Well, I like the old ways best," said Hannah.

  Poor old thing, I could not but pet her and comfort her. She gave meher address. She was going to live with a cousin, and if ever I wanteda home, and was disposed to quarrel with my step-mother, she would takeme in--that she would. As I had no intention of quarrelling with mystep-mother--for it is quite impossible for any
one to have a completelyone-sided quarrel--I told Hannah that all I could hope to do in thefuture was to visit her a good deal. In the end I told her that I wouldwrite her long letters from Paris, which quieted her a good bit. Shekissed me, and when she went away I did feel, somehow, that the old lifewas really gone.

  The old life! It quite went the next morning when I found myself onboard the steamer which was to convey me from Dover to Calais. I stoodwith Hermione on one side and Augusta on the other, looking at thefast-receding waves as the gallant boat plied its way through them. Ourchaperon, a dull, quiet-looking