suppose you had tea at the vicarage?'

The speaker lifted inquiring eyes to her sister as she spoke, her
cheek plunged in the warm fur of a splendid Persian cat, her whole
look and voice expressing the very highest degree of quiet, comfort,
and self-possession. Agnes Leyburn was not pretty; the lower part
of the face was a little heavy in outline and moulding; the teeth
were not as they should have been, and the nose was unsatisfactory.
But the eyes under their long lashes were shrewdness itself, and
there was an individuality in the voice, a cheery even-temperediness
in look and tone, which had a pleasing effect on the bystander.
Her dress was neat and dainty; every detail of it bespoke a young
woman who respected both herself and the fashion.

Her sister, on the other hand, was guiltless of the smallest trace
of fashion. Her skirts were cut with the most engaging naivete, she
was much adorned with amber beads, and her red brown hair had been
tortured and frizzled to look as much like an aureole as possible.
But, on the other hand, she was a beauty, though at present you
felt her a beauty in disguise, a stage Cinderella as it were, in
very becoming rags, waiting for the fairy godmother.

'Yes, I had tea at the vicarage,' said this young person, throwing
herself on the grass in spite of a murmured protest from Agnes, who
had an inherent dislike of anything physically rash, 'and I had the
greatest difficulty to get away. Mrs. Thornburgh is in such a flutter
about this visit! One would think it was the Bishop and all his
Canons, and promotion depending on it, she has baked so many cakes
and put out so many dinner napkins! I don't envy the young man.
She will have no wits left at all to entertain him with. I actually