Twice over Bessie read this, then to herself repeated it aloud--all with
thoughts of her friends in the Forest.

The next minute her fortitude gave way, tears rushed to her eyes, Madame
Fournier's precepts vanished out of remembrance, and she cried like a
child wanting its mother. In which unhappy condition Mrs. Betts
discovered her, sitting upon the floor, when the little page came flying
to announce luncheon and visitors. It was two o'clock already.




CHAPTER XIX.

_NEIGHBORS TO ABBOTSMEAD._


Some recent duties of Mrs. Betts's service had given her, on occasion,
an authoritative manner, and she was impelled to use it when she
witnessed the forlornness of her young lady. "I am surprised that you
should give way, miss," said she. "In the middle of the day, too, when
callers are always liable, and your dear, good grandpapa expects a
smiling face! To make your eyes as red as a ferret--"

"Indeed, they are not!" cried Bessie, and rose and ran to the
looking-glass.

Mrs. Betts smiled at the effect of her tactics, and persevered: "Let me
see, miss: because if it is plain you have been fretting, you had better
make an excuse and stop up stairs. But the master will be vexed." Bessie