"Yes, of that slender young thing, Mason's goddaughter. Some people think her almost beautiful, with her great black eyes, and cheeks like ripe peaches. Then her hair is quite wonderful, and she walks like a fawn."
"You make her out very beautiful," said Lady Rose, with a quick increase of color. "Perhaps she is—having seen her always since we were both little girls, I have not observed the change as others might."
"Of course, how should your ladyship be expected to think of her now that you are the first lady in the county, and the girl only what she has always been?"
Lady Rose shook her head in kindly reproof of this speech.
"We must not say that, Mrs. Hipple," she said. "Ruth was my playmate as a little girl, a sweet-tempered, pretty friend, whom you kindly allowed to study with me as an equal."
"No, no. Never as an equal. That was impossible. She was bright and diligent."
"More so than I ever was," said Lady Rose, smiling on the old woman.
"Ah, but you learned so quickly, there was no necessity for application with you. One might as well compare her dark prettiness with—"
Lady Rose held up her hands, with a childlike show of resistance.
"There, there. If you draw pleasant comparisons, dear Hipple, it is because you love me, but that takes nothing from Ruth, who must be remarkably good-looking, or people would not admire her so much."