accordingly. And today we grant her the privilege of the new-comer.'

Dolores would have esteemed the privilege more, if, while she was going
upstairs to put on her hat, the recollection had not occurred to her of
one of the victim's of an aunt's cruelty who was always made to run on
errands while her favoured cousins were at their studies. Was this the
beginning? Somehow, though her better sense knew this was a foolish
fancy, she had a secret pleasure in pitying herself, and posing to
herself as a persecuted heroine. And then she was greatly fretted to
find the housemaid in her room, looking as if no one else had any
business there. What was worse, she could not find her jacket. She
pulled out all her drawers with fierce, noisy jerks, and then turned
round on the maid, sharply demanding--

'Who has taken my jacket?'

'I'm sure I don't know, Miss Dollars. You'd best ask Mrs. Halfpenny.'

'If--' but at that moment Mysie ran in, holding the jacket in her hand.
'I saw it in the nursery,' she said, triumphantly. 'Nurse had taken it
to mend! Come along. Where's your hat?'

But there was pursuit; Mrs. Halfpenny was at the door. 'Young ladies,
you are not going out of the policy in that fashion.'

'Mamma sent us. Mamma wants us to take a note in a hurry. Only to
Miss Hacket,' pleaded Mysie, as Mrs. Halfpenny laid violent hands on
her brown Holland jacket, observing--

'My leddy never bade ye run off mair like a wild worricow than a