er age, and she had been taken care of, as young ladies
are taken care of in society; accompanied or attended wherever she went,
and made much of. To find herself thus left to arrive and get home as
she pleased, with nobody but Janey to meet her, was a terrible
falling-off; and to be laughed at by Janey was the last step of all.
Tears filled her eyes, she turned her shoulder to her companion,
averting her head; and this was all poor Ursula had to look to. The
dreary Carlingford street, papa finding fault, everything going wrong,
and Janey laughing at her! To be Cousin Anne's maid, or governess to the
little Indian children would be better than this. For five minutes more
she walked on in offended silence, saying nothing, though Janey, like
the school-girl she was, made frequent use of her elbow to move her
sister.

"Ursula!" the girl said at last, with a more potent nudge, "what's the
matter? won't you speak to me?" And Janey, who had her own
disappointment too, and had expected to be received with enthusiasm,
burst out crying, regardless of appearances, in the middle of the
street.

"Janey, for Heaven's sake--people will see you! I am sure it is I who
should cry, not you," said Ursula, in sudden distress.

"I don't care who sees me," sobbed Janey. "You have been enjoying
yourself while we have stayed at home, and instead of being pleased to
come back, or glad to see us--Oh, how can you be so cold-hearted?" she
said with a fresh burst of tears.

Here the other side of the question suddenly dawned upon Ursula. She had
been enjoying herself while the others stayed at home. It was quite
true. Instead of feeling the shock of difference she should have thought
of those who had never been so lucky as she was, who had never seen
anything out of Carlingford. "Don't be so foolish, Janey," she said, "I
_am_ glad;--and I have brought you such beautiful presents. But when you
do nothing but laugh----"

"I am sure I didn't laugh to hurt. I only laughed for fun!" cried Janey,
drying her eyes not without a little indignation; a