“How do you do?” they said, each just touching her hand, and then the three girls stood looking at one another.

The words “my mamma” had already annoyed Phyllis, who was one of those persons who even from childhood cherish an extraordinary degree of quiet pride in their good birth.  She was willing that Hetty should be treated with kindness, but had often told herself that she would never be persuaded to look upon her as her own cousin.  Nell only thought of how pretty their new playfellow was, and how nice it would be to have her sometimes with them.

“I am very glad you have come,” she said, looking at Hetty with welcoming eyes.

“Nell, you ought not to speak before your elder sister,” said Miss Davis, who, though an excellent lady, was rather prim in her ways and ideas.

“I hope you are quite well,” said Phyllis politely; “will you take some tea?”

“I have just had some,” said Hetty, “thank you.  Do you never have tea with your mamma?”

“Oh, no,” said the girls, with a smile of surprise.

“Little girls never do,” said Miss Davis emphatically.

“I do always,” said Hetty; she might have added, “except when she forgets all about me,” but she did not think of that now.

“I did not know you had any mamma,” said Phyllis coldly, not exactly meaning to be cruel, but feeling that Hetty was pretentious, and therefore vulgar, and that she ought to be kept down.

“How odd that you should not know your own aunt,” said Hetty, a warm crimson rising in her cheeks, and her eyes kindling.

“My aunt never had a child,” said Phyllis quietly.

“Not till she got Hetty,” broke in Nell.  “Phyllis, how can you be so unkind?”

“My dear Nell, I am not unkind, I only meant to correct Miss Gray’s mistake.”

“You had better go into the drawing-room and correct Mrs. Rushton’s mistakes,” said Hetty angrily.  “It is by her desire that I call her my mother.”

By this time Miss Davis knew who Hetty was, as she had heard something about Mrs. Rushton’s having adopted a village child.

“My dears,” she said, “don’t let us be unkind to each other.  Come, we must have our tea, and Miss Gray will be social and join us, even though she has had some before.”  And she handed a cup to the little visitor.

“Now, Hetty,” continued Miss Davis, “I suppose I may call you Hetty, instead of Miss Gray, as you are only a little girl?”

“Yes,” said Hetty slowly, half liking Miss Davis, but feeling afraid she was laughing at her.

Tea was finished almost in silence, not all Miss Davis’s efforts making Hetty and Phyllis feel at ease with each other.  Nell, being rather in awe of her elder sister, of whose general propriety of conduct and good sense she had a high opinion, was not very successful in her attempts at conversation.  When the meal was over Miss Davis proposed a walk in the garden before study time.