full of activity.

"You are come to tell me about them, my dear," was her greeting.
"I've seen them. No, I don't mean that they have been to see me.
You'll bring them some day, won't you? I'm sure Ambrose's boy would
come to see a sick woman. I watched one of them yesterday pick up
old Molly's oranges for her in the street, when her basket got upset
by a cart, and he then paid her for them, and gave them among the
children round. It did my heart good, I'd not seen such a sight
since the boys were sent away."

"Harold would do anything kind," I said, "or to see an old friend of
his father. The worst of it is that there seem to be so few who wish
to see him, or can even forgive me for staying with him."

I showed her Lord Erymanth's letter, and told her of the others,
asking her what it meant. "Oh, as to Lady Diana," she said, "there
is no doubt about that. She was greatly offended at your having sent
away her carriage and not having taken her advice, and she goes about
saying she is disappointed in you."

For my mother's sake, and my little Viola, and Auld Lang Syne
besides, I was much hurt, and defended myself in a tone of pique
which made Miss Woolmer smile and say she was far from blaming me,
but that she thought I ought to count the cost of my remaining at
Arghouse. And then she told me that the whole county was up in arms
against the new comers, not only from old association of their name
with revolutionary notions, but because the old Miss Stympsons, of
Lake Side, who had connections in New South Wales, had set it abroad
that the poor boys were ruffians, companions of the double-dyed