of about Kate's own age; there was some curtseying and greeting
between the two ladies, and her aunt said, "Here is my niece.--Come
and speak to Mrs. Wardour, my dear," and motioned her forwards.

Now to be motioned forwards by Aunt Barbara always made Kate shrink
back into herself, and the presence of a little girl before elders
likewise rendered her shy and bashful, so she came forth as if
intensely disgusted, put out her hand as if she were going to poke,
and muttered her favourite "--do" so awkwardly and coldly, that Lady
Barbara felt how proud and ungracious it looked, and to make up said,
"My niece has been very eager for your coming." And then the two
little girls drew off into the window, and looked at each other under
their eyelashes in silence.

Sylvia Joanna Wardour was not like her namesake at home, Sylvia
Katharine. She was a thin, slight, quiet-looking child, with so
little to note about her face, that Kate was soon wondering at her
dress being so much smarter than her own was at present. She herself
had on a holland suit with a deep cape, which, except that they were
adorned with labyrinths of white braid, were much what she had worn
at home, also a round brown hat, shading her face from the sun;
whereas Sylvia's face was exposed by a little turban hat so deeply
edged with blue velvet, that the white straw was hardly seen; had a
little watered-silk jacket, and a little flounced frock of a dark
silk figured with blue, that looked slightly fuzzed out; and perhaps
she was not at ease in this fine dress, for she stood with her head
down, and one hand on the window-sill, pretending to look out of
window, but really looking at Kate.

Meanwhile the two grown-up ladies were almost as stiff and shy,