As Lady Betty persisted in haunting the Marshalls’ cottage, I determined to make her useful.  So I set her to read to Elspeth, or to give sewing-lessons to Peggy, or to amuse the younger children, while I was engaged with my patient; and I soon found that she was a most helpful little body.

Mr. Hamilton found her sitting in the kitchen one day surrounded by the children.  She was telling them a story.  The baby was sucking her thumb contentedly on her lap.  Poor Mary was worse that day, and I had begged Lady Betty to keep the little ones quiet.

Mr. Hamilton came into the sick-room looking very much pleased.  ’I only wish you could make Lady Betty a useful member of society, Miss Garston,’ he said, with one of the rare smiles that always lit up his dark face so pleasantly.  ’She is a good little thing, but she wants ballast.  As a rule, young ladies are terribly idle.’

I had called up at Gladwyn a few days after we had dined there, but, to my great disappointment, I did not see Miss Hamilton.  Miss Darrell was alone, so my visit was as brief as possible.

She told me at once that her cousins had gone over to Brighton for an afternoon’s shopping, and that Mr. Hamilton had run up to London for a few hours.  And then she commenced plying me with questions in a ladylike way about my work and my past life, but in such a skilful manner that it was almost impossible to avoid answering.  She was so sure that I must be dull, living all alone.  Oh, of course I was too good and unselfish to say so, but all the same I must be miserably dull.  What could have put such a singular idea in my head, she wondered.  When young ladies did this sort of thing there was generally some painful reason:  they were unhappy at home, or they had had some disastrous love-affair.  Of course—­laughing a little affectedly—­she had no intention of hinting at such a reason in my case; any one could see at a glance that I was not that sort of person; I was far too sensible and matter-of-fact:  gentlemen would be quite afraid of me, I was so strong-minded.  But all the same she pleaded guilty to a feeling of natural curiosity why such an idea had come into my head.

When I had warded off this successfully,—­for I declined to enlighten Miss Darrell on this subject,—­she flew off at a tangent to Aunt Philippa.

’It was such a pity when relations did not entirely harmonise.  An aunt could never replace a mother.  Ah! she knew that too well:  and when there were daughters—­and she had heard from Mr. Cunliffe that my cousin Sara was excessively pretty and charming—­no doubt there would be natural misunderstandings and jealousies.  In spite of all my goodness, I was only human.  Of course she understood perfectly how it all happened, and she felt very sorry for me.’