True-hearted as Gillian was, there was something hopeful and refreshing in the sight of that fair, smiling face, and the touch of the soft hand, in the room that was by no means unfamiliar, though she had never slept in the house before.  It was growing dark, and the little fire lighted it up in a friendly manner.  Wherever Aunt Jane was, everything was neat; wherever Aunt Adeline was, everything was graceful.  Gillian was old enough to like the general prettiness; but it somewhat awed Val and Fergus, who stood straight and shy till they were taken upstairs.  The two girls had a very pretty room and dressing-room—–­the guest chamber, in fact; and Fergus was not far off, in a small apartment which, as Val said, ‘stood on legs,’ and formed the shelter of the porch.

‘But, oh dear! oh dear!’ sighed Val, as Gillian unpacked their evening garments, ’Isn’t there any nice place at all where one can make a mess?’

‘I don’t know whether the aunts will ever let us make a mess,’ said Gillian; ‘they don’t look like it.’

At which Valetta’s face puckered up in the way only too familiar to her friends.

’Come, don’t be silly, Val.  You won’t have much time, you know; you will go to school, and get some friends to play with, and not want to make messes here.’

‘I hate friends!’

‘Oh, Val!’

‘All but Fly, and Mysie is gone to her.  I want Mysie.’

So in truth did Gillian, almost as much as her mother.  Her heart sank as she thought of having Val and Fergus to save from scrapes without Mysie’s readiness and good humour.  If Mysie were but there she should be free for her ‘great thing.’  And oh! above all, Val’s hair—–­the brown bush that Val had a delusion that she ‘did’ herself, but which her ‘doing’ left looking rather worse than it did before, and which was not permitted in public to be in the convenient tail.  Gillian advanced on her with the brush, but she tossed it and declared it all right!

However, at that moment there was a knock.  Mrs. Mount’s kindly face and stout form appeared.  She had dressed Miss Ada and came to see what she could do for the young people, being of that delightful class of old servants who are charmed to have anything young in the house, especially a boy.  She took Valetta’s refractory mane in hand, tied her sash, inspected Fergus’s hands, which had succeeded in getting dirty in their inevitable fashion, and undertook all the unpacking and arranging.  To Val’s inquiry whether there was any place for making ‘a dear delightful mess’ she replied with a curious little friendly smile, and wonder that a young lady should want such a thing.

‘I’m afraid we are all rather strange specimens of young ladies,’ replied Gillian; ‘very untidy, I mean.’

‘And I’m sure I don’t know what Miss Mohun and Miss Ada will say’ said good Mrs. Mount.

‘What’s that?  What am I to say?’ asked Aunt Jane, coming into the room.