"Ha! In my time we were satisfied with a doll."

They all three looked round. Another person had suddenly joined
in the talk. There was no mistaking the person's voice: Mrs.
Presty appeared among the trees, taking a walk in the park. Had
she heard what Linley and the governess had said to each other
while Kitty was gathering daisies?

"Quite a domestic scene!" the sly old lady remarked. "Papa,
looking like a saint in a picture, with flowers in his hand.
Papa's spoiled child always wanting something, and always getting
it. And papa's governess, so sweetly fresh and pretty that I
should certainly fall in love with her, if I had the advantage of
being a man. You have no doubt remarked Herbert--I think I hear
the bell; shall we go to lunch?--you have no doubt, I say,
remarked what curiously opposite styles Catherine and Miss
Westerfield present; so charming, and yet such complete
contrasts. I wonder whether they occasionally envy each other's
good looks? Does my daughter ever regret that she is not Miss
Westerfield? And do you, my dear, some times wish you were Mrs.
Linley?"

"While we are about it, let me put a third question," Linley
interposed. "Are you ever aware of it yourself, Mrs. Presty, when
you are talking nonsense?"

He was angry, and he showed it in that feeble reply. Sydney felt
the implied insult offered to her in another way. It roused her
to the exercise of self-control as nothing had roused her yet.