‘But you would not have had me keep it and tolerate it?’ exclaimed Gillian.

’I can hardly tell without having seen it; but you might have done the thing more civilly, through his sister, or have let me give it back to him.  However, it is too late now; I will make a point of seeing Kalliope to-morrow, but in the meantime you really need not be so horribly disgusted and ashamed.’

‘I thought he was quite a different sort!’

’Perhaps, after all, your thoughts were not wrong; and he only fancied, poor boy, that he had found a pretty way of thanking you.’

This did not greatly comfort Gillian, who might prefer feeling that she was insulted rather than that she had been cruelly unkind, and might like to blame Alexis rather than herself.  And, indeed, in any case, she had sense enough to perceive that this very unacceptable compliment was the consequence of her own act of independence of more experienced heads.

The next person Miss Mohun met was Fergus, lugging upstairs, step by step, a monstrous lump of stone, into which he required her to look and behold a fascinating crevice full of glittering spar.

‘Where did you get that, Fergus?’

‘Up off the cliff over the quarry.’

‘Are you sure that you may have it?’

’Oh yes; White said I might.  It’s so jolly, auntie!  Frank Stebbing is gone away to the other shop in the Apennines, where the old boss lives.  What splendiferous specimens he must have the run of!  Our Stebbing says ’tis because Kally White makes eyes at him; but any way, White has got to do his work while he’s away, and go all the rounds to see that things are right, so I go after him, and he lets me have just what I like—–­such jolly crystals.’

‘I am sure I hope it is all right.’

’Oh yes, I always ask him, as you told me; but he is awfully slow and mopy and down in the mouth to-day.  Stebbing says he is sweet upon Gill; but I told him that couldn’t be, White knew better.  A general’s daughter, indeed! and Will remembers his father a sergeant.’

’It is very foolish, Fergus.  Say no more about it, for it is not nice talk about your sister.’

‘I’ll lick any one who does,’ said Fergus, bumping his stone up another step.

Poor Aunt Jane!  There was more to fall on her as soon as the door was finally shut on the two rooms communicating with one another, which the sisters called their own.  Mrs. Mount’s manipulations of Miss Adeline’s rich brown hair were endured with some impatience, while Miss Mohun leant back in her chair in her shawl-patterned dressing-gown, watching, with a sort of curious wonder and foreboding, the restlessness that proved that something was in store, and meantime somewhat lazily brushing out her own thinner darker locks.

‘You are tired, Miss Jane,’ said the old servant, using the pet name in private moments.  ‘You had better let me do your hair.’