‘Let them call me whatever suits them best,’ said Albinia; ’I had rather they waited till they feel that they like to call me as you have done—­thank you for it, dear Lucy.  You must not fancy I shall be at all hurt at your thinking of times past.  I shall want you to tell me of them, and of your own dear mother, and what will suit papa best.’

Lucy looked highly gratified, and eagerly said, ’I am sure I shall love you just like my own mamma.’

‘No,’ said Albinia, kindly; ’I do not expect that, my dear.  I don’t ask for any more than you can freely give, dear child.  You must bear with having me in that place, and we will try and help each other to make your papa comfortable; and, Lucy, you will forgive me, if I am impetuous, and make mistakes.’

Lucy’s little clear black eyes looked as if nothing like this had ever come within her range of observation, and Albinia could sympathize with her difficulty of reply.

Mr. Kendal was not in the drawing-room when they re-entered, there was only Gilbert nursing his toothache by the fire, and Sophy sitting in the middle of the rug, holding up a screen.  She said something good-natured to each, but neither responded graciously, and Lucy went on talking, showing off the room, the chiffonieres, the ornaments, and some pretty Indian ivory carvings.  There was a great ottoman of Aunt Maria’s work, and a huge cushion with an Arab horseman, that Lucy would uncover, whispering, ‘Poor mamma worked it,’ while Sophy visibly winced, and Albinia hurried it into the chintz cover again, lest Mr. Kendal should come.  But Lucy had full time to be communicative about the household with such a satisfied, capable manner, that Albinia asked if she had been keeping house all this time.

’No; old Nurse kept the keys, and managed till now; but she went this morning.’

Sophy’s mouth twitched.

‘She was so very fond—­’ continued Lucy.

‘Don’t!’ burst out Sophy, almost the first word Albinia had heard from her; but no more passed, for Mr. Kendal came in, and Lucy’s conversation instantly was at an end.’

Before him she was almost as silent as the others, and he seldom addressed himself to her, only inquiring once after her grandmamma’s health, and once calling Sophy out of the way when she was standing between the fire and—­He finished with the gesture of command, whether he said ‘Your mamma,’ none could tell.

It was late, and the meal was not over before bed-time, when Albinia lingered to find remedies for Gilbert’s toothache, pleased to feel herself making a commencement of motherly care, and to meet an affectionate glance of thanks from Mr. Kendal’s eye.  Gilbert, too, thanked her with less shyness than before, and was hopeful about the remedy; and with the feeling of having made a beginning, she ran down to tell Mr. Kendal that she thought he had hardly done justice to the children—­they were fine creatures—­something so sweet and winning about Lucy—­she liked Gilbert’s countenance—­Sophy must have something deep and noble in her.