flirts, Sophia and I. Rose is different, but at least she hasn't
married. The three Miss Malletts of Nelson Lodge! Now there are four
of us, and you must keep up our reputation.'

Overwhelmed by this generosity, by this kindness, Henrietta did not
know what to say. She murmured something about her mother's wish that
she should earn her living, but Caroline scouted the idea, and Sophia,
putting her white hand on one of Henrietta's, assured her that her
dear mother would be glad for her child to have the comforts of a
home.

'I'm not used to them,' Henrietta said. 'I've always taken care of
people. I shan't know what to do.'

They would find plenty for her to do; there were many gaieties in
Radstowe and she would be welcomed everywhere. 'And now about your
clothes,' Caroline repeated. 'You are wearing black, of course. Well,
black can be very pretty, very French. Look at Rose. She rarely wears
anything else, but when Sophia and I were about your age, she used to
wear blue and I wore pink, or the other way round.'

'You do so still,' Rose remarked.

'A pink muslin,' Caroline went on in a sort of ecstasy, 'a Leghorn hat
wreathed with pink roses--when was I wearing that, Sophia?'

'Last summer,' Rose said dryly.

'So I was,' Caroline agreed in a matter-of-fact voice. 'Now,
Henrietta. Get a piece of paper and a pencil, Sophia, and we'll make a