her little niece might be allowed to come to tea with her little
daughter. And Lady Susan Gresley, who had never met the rich
iron-master's wife in this world, and would probably be equally
exclusive in the next, was about to refuse, when Hester, who up to that
moment had apparently taken no interest in the matter, suddenly cast
herself on the floor in a paroxysm of despair and beat her head against
the carpet. The tearful entreaties of her aunt gradually elicited the
explanation, riddled by sobs, that Hester could never take an interest
in life again, could never raise herself even to a sitting position, nor
dry her eyes on her aunt's handkerchief, unless she were allowed to go
to tea with Rachel and see her dormouse.

Lady Susan, much upset herself, and convinced that these outbursts were
prejudicial to Hester's health, gave way at once, and a few days later
Hester, pale, shy, in a white muffler, escorted by mademoiselle, went to
tea in the magnificent house on the other side of the square, and saw
Rachel's round head without a feathered hat on it, and both children
were consumed by shyness until the two mademoiselles withdrew into
another room, and Rachel showed Hester the dormouse which she had found
in the woods in the country, and which ate out of her hand. And Hester
made a little poem on it, beginning,

"There was a mouse in Portman Square";

and so, with many breaks, the friendship attained a surer footing, and
the intimacy grew with their growth, in spite of the fact that Lady
Susan had felt unable (notwithstanding the marked advances of Mrs. West,
possibly because of them) to enlarge her visiting-list, in spite of many
other difficulties which were only in the end surmounted by the
simplicity of character which Rachel had not inherited from her parents.