Just then came a swinging of the gate, a step on the walk, and Miss Meadows made her appearance.  A message had been sent up in the morning, but grandmamma was so nervous, that Maria had trotted down in the heat so satisfy her.

Albinia was surprised to find that womanhood had thrown all their instincts on the baby’s side, and was gratified by the first truly kind fellow-feeling they had shown her.  She took Maria into the morning room, where she had left Sophy lying on the sofa, and ran up to fetch Maurice from the nursery.

When she came down, having left the nurse adorning him, she found that she had acted cruelly.  Sophy was standing up with her hardest face on, listening to her aunt’s well-meant rebukes on her want of feeling, and hopes that she did regret the having endangered her brother, and deprived ’her dear mamma of the party of pleasure at Fairmead; but Aunt Maria knew it was of no use to talk to Sophy, none—!’

‘Pray don’t, Aunt Maria,’ said Albinia, gently drawing Sophy down on the sofa again; ‘this poor child is in no state to be scolded.’

’You are a great deal too good to her, Mrs. Kendal—­after such wilfulness as last night—­carrying the dear baby out in the street—­I never heard of such a thing—­But what made you do it, Sophy, wont you tell me that?  No, I know you won’t; no one ever can get a word from her.  Ah! that sulky disposition—­it is a very nasty temper—­can’t you break through it, Sophy, and confess it all to your dear mamma?  You would be so much better.  But I know it is of no use, poor child, it is just like her father.’

Albinia was growing very angry, and it was well that Maurice’s merry crowings were heard approaching.  Miss Meadows was delighted to see him, but as he had a great aversion to her, the interview was not prolonged, since he could not be persuaded to keep the peace by being held up to watch a buzzing fly, as much out of sight of her as possible, wrinkling up his nose, and preparing to cry whenever he caught sight of her white bonnet and pink roses.

Miss Meadows bethought her that grandmamma was anxious, so she only waited to give an invitation to tea, but merely to Mrs. Kendal; she would say nothing about Sophy since disgrace—­well-merited—­if they could only see some feeling.

‘Thank you,’ said Albinia, ’some evening perhaps I may come, since yon are so kind, but I don’t think I can leave this poor twisted arm to itself.’

Miss Meadows evaporated in hopes that Sophy would be sensible of—­and assurances that Mrs. Kendal was a great deal too—­with finally, ’Good-bye, Sophy, I wish I could have told grandmamma that you had shown some feeling.’

‘I believe,’ said Albinia, ’that you would only be too glad if you knew how.’

Sophy gasped.

Albinia could not help feeling indignant at the misjudged persecution; and yet it seemed to render the poor child more entirely her own, since all the world besides had turned against her.  ’Kiss her, Maurice,’ she said, holding the little fellow towards her.  That scratched arm of hers has spared your small brains from more than you guess.’