Mrs. Dalton had just entered. "What a figure," she said, in a harsh tone, "those children have made themselves with crying: there, good by, I can’t be kept waiting all day." She stepped into the carriage. "Keep this for my sake," whispered her nurse, as she gave Julia a little book. Still the children clung together, and Eda was herself obliged to part their hands and lift Julia into her place by Mrs. Dalton's side. They drove rapidly off, and perhaps the journey may be best summed up by the account which the lady's maid gave of it. "That truly her mistress was enough to plague the very life out of the poor little patient creature, who scarce ever opened her lips."
The day after their arrival in London, Mrs. Dalton took Julia to school. Mrs. Wilson lived at Richmond, one of those large old houses which look at once airy and substantial. The garden, towards the lonely and sheltered road, was small, but through the iron railings were visible two neatly kept beds of annual flowers embedded in turf of
