"Sister," Anne faltered, "I thought you were not within. The gentleman
who rode away--did the servants know?"

"That did they," quoth Clorinda, mocking again. "They knew that I would
not receive him to-day, and so sent him away. He might have known as
much himself, but he is an arrant popinjay, and thinks all women wish to
look at his fine shape, and hear him flatter them when he is in the
mood."

"You would not--let him enter?"

Clorinda threw her graceful body into a chair with more light laughter.

"I would not", she answered. "You cannot understand such ingratitude,
poor Anne; you would have treated him more softly. Sit down and talk to
me, and I will show thee my furbelows myself. All women like to chatter
of their laced bodices and petticoats. _That_ is what makes a woman."

Anne was tremulous with relief and pleasure. It was as if a queen had
bid her to be seated. She sat almost with the humble lack of case a
serving-woman might have shown. She had never seen Clorinda wear such an
air before, and never had she dreamed that she would so open herself to
any fellow-creature. She knew but little of what her sister was
capable--of the brilliancy of her charm when she chose to condescend, of
the deigning softness of her manner when she chose to please, of her arch-
pleasantries and cutting wit, and of the strange power she could wield
over any human being, gentle or simple, with whom she came in contact.
But if she had not known of these things before, she learned to know them
this morning. For some reason best known to herself, Mistress Clorinda
was in a high good humour. She kept Anne with her for more than an hour,