"Ah"--with a sigh--"so I ought, if I were as good as my Aunt Hilary."



CHAPTER XII.

Months slipped by; the trees in Burton Crescent had long been all
bare; the summer cries of itinerant vegetable dealers and flower
sellers had vanished out of the quiet street.--The three sisters
almost missed them, sitting in that one dull parlor from morning till
night, in the intense solitude of people who, having neither heart
nor money to spend in gayeties, live forlorn in London lodgings, and
knowing nobody, have nobody to visit, nobody to visit them.

Except Mr. Ascott, who still called, and occasionally stayed to tea.
The hospitalities, however, were all on their side. The first
entertainment--to which Selina insisted upon going, and Johanna
thought Hilary and Ascott had better go too--was splendid enough, but
they were the only ladies present; and though Mr. Ascott did the
honors with great magnificence, putting Miss Selina at the head of
his table, where she looked exceedingly well, still the sisters
agreed it was better that all further invitations to Russell Square
should be declined. Miss Selina herself said it would be more
dignified and decorous.

Other visitors they had none. Ascott never offered to bring any of
his friends; and gradually they saw very little of him. He was
frequently out, especially at meal times, so that his aunts gave up
the struggle to make the humble dinners better and more to his