“It is the case. My darling sister and I were left without parents when she was a very little child and I was a young girl. She has been fortunate enough to be admitted into one of the best schools anywhere in this part of England, or indeed, I may say in England at all. I allude to Hazlitt Chase. You must have heard of the name, sir.”

“Hazlitt Chase?” said Mr Amberley. “Of course I know the name. Lady Sophia L’Estrange has two daughters there – Mary and Juliet. Sweet young girls. Lady Sophia lives about four miles from here. I had not the slightest idea that you had a sister at such a distinguished school, Miss Carlton.”

“I have that privilege,” said Brenda, dropping her eyelids so that her long, curly, black eyelashes could rest in the most becoming manner against her peach-bloomy cheeks.

The rector looked at her with admiration.

“She certainly is a very sweet creature,” he thought.

“What is the name of your sister?” he asked, after a moment’s pause.

“She is called Penelope.”

“How quaint and old-fashioned!”

“She is about to take a somewhat old-fashioned part,” continued Brenda. “I don’t pretend to know the old stories as I ought to; you, sir, who are such a good Greek scholar, must have heard of the character of Helen of Troy.”

“Beautiful Helen!” whispered Mr Amberley, under his breath.

“My sister is to take part in some tableaux which Mrs Hazlitt is presenting of Tennyson’s ‘Dream of Fair Women.’ She wants me to see it, and I am anxious to go. I think that if I leave here by an early train, I can spend the greater part of the day at Hazlitt Chase and return here soon after midnight.”

“That will be a late hour to ask the servants to sit up.”

“But if you will entrust me with a latch-key – ”

“No, no, my dear girl: I will sit up for you myself with pleasure. Of course you shall go.”

“Thank you,” said Brenda: “you are more than kind.” She fidgeted a little, then continued: “It will be a very gay party, and people from many parts of England will assemble there to witness the different events of the day. Tennyson’s ‘Dream of Fair Women’ is, I believe, to take the most distinguished place in the day’s proceedings and, in short, sir – I want to be suitably dressed.”

“Of course – of course,” said Mr Amberley, looking a little confused, as he always was when the subject of money was even approached. “Eh – a neat cotton, eh?”

“Well, sir – it must be something rather better on this occasion; but if I might ask for my quarter’s salary, I have no doubt I can manage.”

“My poor, dear girl! have I forgotten it? How long is it due?”

“It won’t be due for a fortnight, sir; but I thought, under the circumstances, that you might – I mean that you would be so kind – ”

“You shall have a cheque immediately. Let me see – your salary is thirty pounds a year, that means seven pounds ten a quarter. I will write you a cheque for the amount; you can cash it at the bank. Get a pretty cool-looking cotton, my dear Miss Carlton – something with rosebuds on it: you are – so like a rosebud yourself.”

“One minute please, sir. I cannot get the sort of dress I want at Harroway. I must go to Rocheford to make my purchase and I think it would be a good opportunity to get the girls’ dresses for the seaside at the same time.”

“Oh dear, dear, dear!” said Mr Amberley. “Haven’t they got enough dresses from last year?”

“Oh, no!” said Brenda, shaking her head. “They are growing so quickly; you quite forget that.”

“I only know that my funds are very low and that there are a great many sick people in the parish,” said the rector.

“Still your children must be clothed,” said Brenda, putting on a severe air. “You have taken lodgings for them at the sea, and I can’t walk about with girls who are not presentable. I would rather, painful as it seems, resign my post – though of course I don’t really mean to do it, but – ”

The rector looked really terrified.

“You must not neglect my poor orphans! What would my children do without you? But what is necessary? What do you think each will require?”

“I can manage with three pounds for each: that is, nine pounds for the three and seven pounds ten for myself. I know it seems a great deal of money, but you cannot imagine how careful I will be.”

“I am sure – I am certain you will.”

Mr Amberley drew a cheque for the amount. He could not help sighing more than once as he did so. It represented a very large sum to him, and would preclude the possibility of his taking any holiday himself; for little Joe Hoskins and Mary Miller must go to the seaside at any cost. Nevertheless, the picture of his home without Brenda Carlton, and his three orphans neglected and forsaken, was greater than his patience could abide; and he made up his mind to do what Brenda wished, let the consequences be what they might. She had her way also with regard to the horse and trap and returned to her pupils with a cheque in her hand for sixteen pounds ten and a most triumphant expression on her pretty face.

Not the most remote idea had she of spending three pounds on each girl; but she could get them a flimsy muslin each, some brown shoes to wear on the sands, and a cheap hat for each sandy-covered head, which would delight their small minds. The rest of the money would be her own. Thus she would be able to make herself look distinguished, and yet not touch the twenty pounds which Penelope had sent her from school.

“Hurrah!” she cried, as she joined her pupils. “The good little papa has come up to the scratch. You shall have your pink muslins, and hats, and gloves, and shoes besides. Only the muslins must be made at home, and I myself will trim the hats. Now then – prepare for a happy holiday. The pony trap will be at the door by twelve o’clock. Nina, run to cook, and tell her to make up some sandwiches for us and a bottle of lemonade. We need not spend our precious fairings at the confectioner’s if we take home-made provisions with us.”

Nina, in rapture at the happy time which she felt was before her, flew off to obey Brenda’s behests and, sharp at twelve, the little party left the old rectory and drove down through the shady village street.

Brenda drove. She was a capital whip, and never looked better than when she was so employed. More than one person turned to gaze with admiration at the handsome showy girl, and her heart swelled within her with pride and satisfaction as she noticed this fact. At the bank she changed the cheque, taking care that her pupils did not see the amount which swelled her little purse.

They arrived at Rocheford in about an hour, and there a silk of the palest shade of blue was chosen with soft French lace for trimming. Nina was absolutely open-mouthed with admiration as she saw the exquisite fabric being told off in yards by the shopman. After the dress was bought, Brenda purchased very pretty pink muslins for her pupils, and white hats which she meant to trim with cheap white muslin.

They then went to a shoemaker’s where they got shoes, and to another shop for gloves, and finally to interview that modiste of great fame, as Madame Declassé described herself. But here disappointment awaited the little girls, for Brenda insisted on entering the apartment all alone.

“You, Fanchon,” she said, “must hold the pony’s reins. Don’t hold them too tight – just like this; see, mon enfant– do attend to my directions. Now then, I shan’t be very long.”

“But may not two of us come with you?” asked Josephine. “We should love to see the pretty things in Madame Declassé’s show-room.”

“No, no; I must see her alone; she will do it cheaper for me if I am alone.”

Brenda skipped away, and the girls were left in charge of the dull, over-worked little pony with the western sun beating down upon them. They had certainly passed an exciting day, but, on the whole, they were not quite satisfied. There was a mutinous feeling in each small breast which only needed the match of suspicion to set it on fire. It was Nina who, in the most casual voice, applied that match.

“I am looking at myself,” she said, “in the mirror let into the pony trap just facing us; and I am awfully red.”

“Of course you are, Nina,” laughed both her sisters.

“My face is red,” continued Nina, “and so is my hair; and my eyes are not at all big. Do you think I am really pretty, or am I ugly?”

She gave an anxious glance at Josephine and Fanchon.

“Ugly – of course,” laughed Fanchon.

“Very ugly – a little fright,” said Josephine.

“Then if I am a fright,” said Nina, becoming a more vivid crimson, “so are you, too, for you are red also, and your hair is sandy, and you have very small eyes.”

“Oh, do shut up,” said Fanchon.

Nina turned restlessly on her hot seat. “I wish I was like Brenda,” she said, after a minute’s pause.

“Well, you are not, and all the wishing in the world won’t make you so,” was Josephine’s answer.

“I suppose she is quite beautiful,” said Fanchon, with a sigh.

“Oh, yes – there isn’t a doubt of it,” continued Nina. “How the men do stare at her.”

“It’s very rude of men to stare,” said Josephine. “It is not at all to be admired.”

“But Brenda likes it, all the same,” said Nina. “I know she does, for she nudges me sometimes as we are on the way to church. What a long time she is with Madame Declassé!”

“Nina,” said Fanchon, “if you don’t sit still, you will startle Rob, and he may take it into his head to run away.”

“Rob run away! He knows better,” answered Nina. “Why, he has hardly a kick in him – poor old dear! You wouldn’t run away, would you, Rob?”

Rob flicked his ears, and gave a slight movement to his tail. This he considered sufficient answer to Nina’s tender enquiry.

“I wish Brenda was not quite so long,” she said. “Why, of course she is a long time. She has got to have her lovely blue silk made up. Fancy Brenda in silk! How astonished father will be! Silk is the dream of his life. He said when he married mother, she wore silk. She never, never wore it since – he said – she could not afford it, only very rich people could. There was a time when I thought of keeping silkworms, and winding off the silk from the cocoons until I had enough to make a dress; but Brenda laughed me out of that.”

“Well – she’s got her deserts. She must have spent a lot of money on the dress,” said Fanchon.

“She didn’t spend much on ours, that I know,” said Nina. “Those pink muslins were only sixpence three farthings the yard, and she wouldn’t get an extra yard for me, although I did so want mine to have little flounces – I think little flounces are so stylish. Oh dear, dear! I wish she would come!”

Here Nina took up a carefully folded parcel which contained the material for the girls’ pink muslin dresses.

“Let’s look at it,” she said – “let’s see it in the broad light. It’ll be something to amuse us.”

“Oh, but we never can pack it up again,” exclaimed Josephine.

“Have you got your pocket knife with you, Fanchon?” asked Nina.

Fanchon declared that she had.

“Well, give it to me, and I will cut a wee hole in the paper, just enough for us to see our darling gowns.”

This was too fascinating a proposal to be lightly refused, and in the end the girls had removed enough of the brown paper wrapping to disclose a certain portion of the delicate pink muslin which lay folded beneath.

“I wonder now,” said Nina – she raised her flushed face and looked at her red little person in the tiny square of glass – “I wonder why she makes us wear pink. Do you think, Fanchon – do you think, Josephine, that it suits us?”

The two elder girls were quite silent, but a horrified expression crept over Fanchon’s face. She was older than the others, and had once heard it said that a girl with red hair – however pretty she might be – ought not to wear pink. A sense of revolt filled her soul.

“Why don’t you speak?” said Nina.

“I – I am thinking,” she said, crossly. “Don’t worry me.”

She was thinking to good purpose. The other two seemed to divine her thoughts. They all sat silent and moody.

“I shall do a sum in arithmetic to-night,” thought Josephine. “I know exactly how many yards of that horrid pink muslin she bought and what the hats cost, and those little cheap shoes, and those gloves.”

But Josephine did not say the words aloud. After a little time Nina said:

“I saw a quantity of gold in Brenda’s purse. It seems so odd that she should spend a lot of father’s money on herself, and so very, very little on us – doesn’t it? I don’t understand it – do you, girls?”

But before the girls could reply, Brenda, looking fresh and captivating, as usual, appeared by their side.

“Now, then,” – she said – “home we go. Oh, I am glad to get out of this heat. I think we’ll have supper in the garden to-night. It will be lovely under the mulberry tree. What do you say, petites? What dear, pretty little darlings you are!”

But the pretty little darlings were not in the best of tempers, and Brenda had some trouble in getting them back to good humour. She herself was in excellent spirits, for she had employed Madame Declassé not only to make the dress in a way so sweet as to take the hearts of all who saw her by storm, but was she not also to make her a long white serge dust coat, very fashionable looking and very, very smart, and a little white hat, which would exactly finish off the pale blue costume? and was not Madame Declassé to supply a parasol and gloves, all suited to that distinguished looking young lady, Miss Brenda Carlton?

But these small matters Brenda kept to herself. It would never do for the sandy-haired daughters of the Reverend Josiah Amberley to know about them. Her object was to humour them to the very top of their bent until she got them away with her to the seaside, and then – behold! what twenty pounds still quite unspent might not achieve! For the blue silk dress was paid for, and Madame Declassé would not charge for the making up, nor for the parasol, nor the white serge coat, nor the pretty white hat, for a long, long time. It really did not matter to Madame when her little bills were paid. She was quite willing and ready to accommodate her customers.

As the little party were driving in by the tumble-down gates, Nina, however, made a remark. She raised her light blue eyes and looked full at Brenda and said, in a tone of question and some alarm:

“Do you really, really think, Brenda, that pink muslin is the most suitable sort of dress for red girls like us?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” said Fanchon.

Josephine was silent. Brenda looked hastily from one of her pupils to the other.

“Listen,” she said, “I have considered the subject of your toilettes with the utmost care. Your good father can allow very little for your clothes. He imagines that you will wear stout cotton dresses during your sojourn at Marshlands-on-the-Sea, but I do not intend you to appear in anything so gauche. I have, therefore, bought delicate muslin, which will be made up to suit you. Of course pink muslin will suit you; it is the colour for blondes like yourselves.”

“Blondes, are we?” said Nina – “I thought we were reds!”

“You little goose!” exclaimed Brenda, bending forward and kissing Nina with affection. “Haven’t you just the darlingest little face, and who loves you if your own Brenda does not? But talk to your father on the subject if you wish, and I will change the pink muslins for cottons to-morrow – I can easily do so.”

“Oh, no – no,” said Fanchon.

Josephine shut her lips. Nina nestled up to her governess in an ecstasy of love and affection. If indeed she was a blonde – that lovely word – why, the pink muslin must suit her!