The sufferer on the sofa sat up cautiously. “But Bella hasn’t got any jewelry, has she?”

This observation, delivered with all the bluntness natural in a damsel of only nine summers, threw a blight over the company.

“I have the gold locket and chain with the locks of Papa’s and Mama’s hair in it,” said Arabella defensively.

“If you had a tiara, and a—a cestus, and an armlet to match it, it might answer,” said Sophy. “There is a toilet described here with just those ornaments.”

Her three sisters gazed at her in astonishment. “What is a cestus?” they demanded.

Sophy shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

“Well, Bella hasn’t got one at all events,” said the Job’s comforter on the sofa.

“If she were so poor-spirited as to refuse to go to London for such a trifling reason as that, I would never forgive her!” declared Sophy.

“Of course I would not!” exclaimed Arabella scornfully. “But I have not the least expectation that Lady Bridlington will invite me, for why should she, only because I am her goddaughter? I never saw her in my life!”

“She sent a very handsome shawl for your christening gift,”said Margaret hopefully.

“Besides being Mama’s dearest friend,” added Sophy.

“But Mama has not seen her either—at least, not for years and years!”

“And she never sent Bella anything else, not even when she was confirmed,” pointed out Betsy, gingerly removing the onion from her ear, and throwing it into the fire.

“If your ear-ache is better,” said Sophia, eyeing her with disfavour, “you may hem this seam for me! I want to draw a pattern for a new flounce.”

“Mama said I was to sit quietly by the fire,” replied the invalid, disposing herself more comfortably. “Are there any acrostics in those fusty old books?”