'I daresay they do,' said Margaret; but she seemed to be giving only half her attention. 'Frances,' she went on, 'I wonder what would have happened if you _had_ spoken of us? I wonder if Lady Myrtle would have taken any notice?'

Frances stared.

'Of course she would!' she exclaimed. 'Do you mean to say she wouldn't have taken any notice of hearing that her own grand-nieces were so near her? Why, she'----But suddenly the actual state of the case struck her.

'Do you--does she _not_ know you're here?' she went on, raising her blue eyes in bewilderment to Margaret's face. 'No, I suppose she doesn't, or of course you would be asked to Robin Redbreast on holidays and all that sort of thing.'

'No,' Margaret replied, 'she doesn't know anything about us. I'm not even sure that she knows of our existence; anyway she has never heard our names, or how many of us there are, and I can't believe she really understands how--how very poor we are. For she is very, very rich, you know, Frances, though she lives in that quiet way.'

'_Is_ she?' said Frances. 'I do wish I had spoken of you, whether it was "common" or not.'

'She mightn't have thought that we were any relation,' said Margaret, simply. 'Harper isn't a very particular name. And you see we're not very near to the head of the family now. Lord Elvedon is only father's cousin, and they never stay near here. Father and mother see them sometimes in London, but they've got a very large family, and they're not rich--not _extra_ rich themselves; for the one before this Lord Elvedon, the one who was father's uncle, you see, was very extravagant, though it was mostly his brother's fault--that was our grandfather. His name was Bernard Harper, and'----

'It's awfully interesting,' said Frances, 'but I'm afraid I'm getting rather muddled. Your _grandfather_--what was he, then, to Lady Myrtle?'

'I'll begin at the other end,' said Margaret; 'that will make it plainer. There was a Lord Elvedon who had two sons and a daughter; the daughter was Lady Myrtle. The sons were younger than the daughter, and they were both extravagant. The elder one was a weaker character than his brother, and quite led by him, and before their father died they had already wasted a lot of money, and given him a great deal of trouble, especially Bernard, the second one. So old Lord Elvedon left all he _could_ to his daughter, Lady Myrtle; of course the estates and a good deal had to go with the t.i.tle, but still the new Lord Elvedon was much less rich than he should have been, you see, and our grandfather--that was the son called Bernard--was really poor, and his children, our father and his sisters, have always been poor. Father says a good deal will go back to the t.i.tle when Lady Myrtle dies, and she is quite friends with the present Lord Elvedon, her nephew. But she couldn't bear her brother Bernard--I believe he behaved very badly to her and to all his people--and she has never taken the least notice of father, though father is really a sort of an angel;' and Margaret's eyes glistened.

'You know it is like that sometimes,' she went on; 'a bad father--and I am afraid our grandfather was a bad man, though I don't quite like saying it--sometimes has very good children.'

'But Lady Myrtle _can't_ know about you all--about your father especially,' said Frances. 'I think he should write to her, or do something. Very likely she's got quite wrong ideas about him.'

'No,' said Margaret, 'she must know he is a very good man. He was in the army, you know, like your father, and he was very brave and did lots of things, but he had to leave because of a wound, when he was only a captain. When he and mother married he hoped to stay on till he became a general, and at first they weren't so badly off, for mother had some money. But a good deal of it was lost somehow.'

'I do think Lady Myrtle should be told--I really do,' said Frances, stopping short and speaking with great energy.

But Margaret only shook her head.

'She does know a good deal,' she said. 'We are sure she does, for some years ago my aunt--that's father's only sister--the other died quite young--wrote to her about us. Aunt Flora isn't badly off in a way, for she has no children, and her husband is a judge in India. But she can't do much for us, and--you see it's her husband's money; it isn't as if it was a relation of _ours_.'

Frances had never thought of things in this way; she was years and years younger in mind, or rather in experience and knowledge of life, than Margaret Harper, her junior by nearly twelve months. For Margaret with her older brothers and sisters had early had to face practical difficulties and troubles, the very existence of which was unknown to her young companion.

'It's a shame--a regular shame; that's what it is!' said Frances vehemently, her face flushing with indignation, 'and something should be done.'

Just at that moment a figure came running towards them. It was Bessie, the elder of the Harper girls.

'Margaret, Frances, where have you been? what have you been doing all this time?' she exclaimed. 'We've had ever so many games, and now tea will be ready directly. What are you looking so mournful about, Margaret, and you so excited, Frances? You haven't--oh no, you couldn't have been quarrelling.'

The smile on both faces was sufficient answer--no, certainly they had not been quarrelling!

'What have you been talking about, then?' said Bessie again, and she looked at them with considerable curiosity.

Bessie was two years older than her sister. She was handsomer too, and much stronger. There was a bright, fearless, resolute look about her, very attractive and prepossessing. But she was less intellectual, less thoughtful, more joyous and confident, though tenderly and devotedly unselfish to those she loved, especially to all weak and dependent creatures.

'Margaret has been telling me _such_ interesting things,' began Frances eagerly.

'And Frances has been telling _me_ about--about Lady Myrtle and Robin Redbreast. Just fancy, Bessie, they know her! She was a very, very old friend of their grandmother's.'

And between them the two girls soon put the elder one in possession of all they had been discussing.

Bessie Harper's bright face grew grave; she could not blame her sister and Frances, but still, on the whole, she almost wished the discovery had not been made, though 'it was bound to come some time or other, I suppose,' she reflected.

'I call it a perfect shame!' said Frances, her cheeks flaming up again.

'To think of that horrid old woman having more money than she knows what to do with, and keeping it all to herself, when it _really_ belongs--a good part of it, at least--to your father.'

'No, no,' said Bessie, 'we can't say that. Our great-grandfather had a right to do what he did with his money. And if he _had_ left it to our grandfather, it would all have been wasted, most likely.'

'If he had known how good _father_ was going to be, he'd have left it to him, I daresay,' said Margaret.

'He couldn't have known that,' said Bessie with a merry laugh. 'Father wasn't born when he died.'

'No, but just because of that, Lady Myrtle should make up for it now,'

said Frances. 'I daresay I shouldn't call her "horrid," and of course she's your aunt, and I can scarcely believe she _does_ know all about you. Perhaps she never got your other aunt's letter.'

'Oh yes, she did,' said Bessie. 'She answered it by sending it back with a note saying that none of the descendants of the late Bernard Harper were kith or kin of hers.'

'How wicked!' exclaimed Frances.

'No, no, it's not right to say that, Frances dear,' said both sisters.

'Father says,' Bessie went on, 'that no one knows what her brothers made her suffer, and how good she was to them, standing between them and her father, and devoting herself to them, and hoping against hope, even about our grandfather, till I suppose she _had_ to give him up. It is awfully sad, and for her sake as well as ours, mother and I have often said how we wished she knew father. He would make up to her for the disappointment in her brothers.'

'Isn't Lord Elvedon nice?' asked Frances; 'that's her other nephew, isn't he?'

'Oh yes, I think he's a good sort of a man, but not clever,' said Bessie. 'Not like _father_.'

'And then our boys,' added Margaret. 'They are so good and so clever.'

Her pale little face flushed with rosy pleasure.

'How nice!' said Frances, with ready sympathy. 'How many brothers have you?'

'Two big--older than we are, and one little one of eleven. There are six of us,' Margaret replied.

CHAPTER VI.

BESSIE'S MISGIVINGS.

But just then came the sound of approaching voices.

'Bessie, Bessie, where are you? Haven't you found them? Tea's quite ready.'

And Bessie started. She had forgotten the errand on which she had come.

'Oh, we must be quick!' she said. 'That's Honor and the others calling us; I forgot how the time was going. But Frances, I must speak to you for a moment before you go. Don't forget.'

And then the three ran off to rejoin their companions.