’My dear Lesbia, I hope you are taking Jill’s measure with a grain of salt.  Mr. Hamilton is not disagreeable, and he never orders me about.’

Jill shook her head at me, and went on: 

’Then there is the double-faced lady—­but never mind her; we both hate her.’

‘You mean Miss Darrell, Mr. Hamilton’s cousin?’

’Yes, Witch Etta, as Lady Betty calls her.  She is a dark-eyed, slim piece of elegance, utterly dependent on her clothes for beauty; she dresses perfectly, and makes herself out a good-looking woman, but she is not really good-looking; and she is always talking, and her talk is exciting, because there is always something behind her words, something mildly suggestive of volcanoes, or something equally pleasant and enlivening.  If she smiles, for instance, one seems to think one must find out the meaning of that.’

‘Who has taught you all this, Jill?’ asked Lesbia, bewildered by this sarcasm.

‘My mother-wit,’ returned Jill, utterly unabashed.  ’Well, then there is Gladys.  Ah, now we are coming to the saddest part.  Once upon a time there was a beautiful maiden, really a lovely creature,—­oh, I grant you that, Ursula,—­but she fell under the power of some wicked magician, male or female,—­some folks say Witch Etta,—­who changed her into a snow-maiden or an ice-maiden.  If she were only alive, this Gladys would be most lovely and bewitching; but, you see, she is only a poor snow-maiden, very white and cold.  If she gives you her hand, it quite freezes you; her kiss turns you to ice too; her smile is congealing.  Ursula tries to thaw her sometimes, but it does no good.  She is only Gladys, the snow-maiden.’

I was too angry with Jill to say a word.  Lesbia looked more mystified than ever.

‘If she be so cold and sad, how can Ursula be so fond of her?’ she demanded, in her practical way.  But Jill took no notice, but rattled on: 

’Little brown Betsy—­I beg her pardon—­Lady Betty, is the best of all:  she is really human.  Gladys is only half alive.  Lady Betty laughs and talks and pouts; she wrinkles up like an old woman when she is cross, and has lovely dimples when she smiles.  She is not pretty, but she is quaint, and interesting, and childlike.  I am very fond of Lady Betty,’ finished Jill, with a benevolent nod.

I proceeded to annotate Jill’s mischievous remarks with much severity.  I left Mr. Hamilton alone, with the exception of a brief sentence; I assured Lesbia that he was not ugly, but only peculiar-looking, and that he was an intellectual, earnest-minded man who had known much trouble.  Jill made a wry face, but did not dare to contradict me.

‘As for his sister Gladys,’ I went on, ’she is simply a most beautiful girl, whose health has failed a little from a great shock’; here Jill and Lesbia both looked curious, but I showed no intention of enlightening them.  ‘She is a little too sad and quiet for Jill’s taste,’ I continued, ’and she is also somewhat reserved in manner, but when she likes a person thoroughly she is charming.’