be. That is the worst of her, Alie, you can make no impression on her.'

'I don't think it's quite that, mamma,' Rosalys replied, 'though I know
it often seems so. She was really very, very sorry about her frock. And
she's so young--she's not eight yet, mamma.'

'You were quite different at eight,' answered Mrs. Vane. 'Just
think--that time I was so ill and papa was away. You were barely seven,
and what a thoughtful, careful little body you were! I shall never
forget waking up early one morning and seeing a little white figure
stealthily putting coal on the fire, which was nearly out; taking up the
lumps with its own little cold hands not to make a noise. My good little
Alie!' and she stroked the hand that lay on her arm fondly.

Rosalys smiled up at her. She loved her mother to speak so to her, but
still her heart was sore for Biddy.

'I believe--I _know_ Biddy would be just as loving to you, mamma, if she
knew how,' she said. 'But it is true that she's very provoking. Perhaps
it would be different if she had brothers and sisters younger than
herself--then she'd _have_ to feel herself big and--as if it mattered
what she did.'

'Responsible, you mean,' said Mrs. Vane. 'Yes, that is the best
training. But we can't provide small brothers and sisters ready-made for
Biddy, and I am very well contented with the three I have got! It might
be a good thing if she had some companions nearer her own age, but even
that has its difficulties. Just think of the scrapes she got into that
time I sent her to your aunt's for a fortnight! Why, she was sent home
in disgrace for--what was it for--I forget? Biddy's scrapes are so