“I’ve had to lay a plan,” resumed Miss Craydocke, as Leslie took the measure of a buttonhole and began.  “Change of work is as good as a rest.  So I’ve had them down here on the curtain among the girls.  Next, I’m going to have a bee.  I’ve got some things to finish up for Prissy Hoskins, and they’re likely to be wanted in something of a hurry.  She’s got another aunt in Portsmouth, and if she can only be provided with proper things to wear, she can go down there, Aunt Hoskins says, and stay all winter, get some schooling, and see a city doctor.  The man here tells them that something might be done for her hearing by a person skilled in such things, and Miss Hoskins says ’there’s a little money of the child’s own, from the vandoo when her father died,’ that would pay for traveling and advice, and ’ef the right sort ain’t to be had in Portsmouth, when she once gets started, she shall go whuzzever’t is, if she has to have a vandoo herself!’ It’s a whole human life of comfort and usefulness, Leslie Goldthwaite, may be, that depends!—­Well, I’ll have a bee, and get Prissy fixed out.  Her Portsmouth aunt is coming up, and will take her back.  She’ll give her a welcome, but she’s poor herself, and can’t afford much more.  And then the Josselyns are to have a bee.  Not everybody; but you and me, and we’ll see by that time who else.  It’s to begin as if we meant to have them all round, for the frolic and the sociability; and besides that, we’ll steal all we can.  For your part, you must get intimate.  Nobody can do anything, except as a friend.  And the last week they’re here is the very week I’m going everywhere in!  I’m going to charter the little red, and have parties of my own.  We’ll have a picnic at the Cliff, and Prissy will wait on us with raspberries and cream.  We’ll walk up Feather-Cap, and ride up Giant’s Cairn, and we’ll have a sunset at Minster Rock.  And it’s going to be pleasant weather every day!”

They stitched away, then, dropping their talk.  Miss Craydocke was out of breath; and Leslie measured her even loops with eyes that glittered more and more.

The half-dozen buttonholes apiece were completed; and then Miss Craydocke trotted off with the two little frocks upon her arm.  She came back, bringing some two or three pairs of cotton-flannel drawers.

“I took them up, just as they lay, cut out and ready, on the bed.  I wouldn’t have a word.  I told them I’d nothing to do, and so I haven’t.  My hurry is coming on all of a sudden when I have my bee.  Now I’ve done it once, I can do it again.  They’ll find out it’s my way, and when you’ve once set up a way, people always turn out for it.”

Miss Craydocke was in high glee.

Leslie stitched up three little legs before Dakie came again, and said they must have her upstairs.

One thing occurred to her, as they ran along the winding passages, up and down, and up again, to the new hall in the far-off L.

The Moorish dress would take so long to arrange.  Wouldn’t Imogen Thoresby like the part?  She was only in the “Three Fishers.”  Imogen and Jeannie met her as she came in.