"Go to the lady, Lilly darling; I will not leave you."
Thus encouraged, the little figure moved slowly forward, and paused in front of the stranger. Mrs. Grayson took her small, white hands tenderly, and, pressing a warm kiss on her lips, said in a kind, winning tone:
"What is your name, my dear?"
"Lillian, ma'am; but sister calls me Lilly."
"Who is 'sister'—little Claudia here?"
"Oh, no; sister Beulah." And the soft blue eyes turned lovingly toward that gentle sister.
"Good Heavens, Alfred; how totally unlike! This is one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen, and that girl yonder is ugly," said the lady, in an undertone to her husband, who was talking to Claudia. It was said in a low voice, but Beulah heard every syllable, and a glow of shame for an instant bathed her brow. Claudia heard it too, and, springing from Mr. Grayson's knee, she exclaimed angrily:
"She isn't ugly, any such thing; she is the smartest girl in the asylum, and I love her better than anybody in the world."
"No, Beulah is not pretty, but she is good, and that is far better," said the matron, laying her trembling hand on Beulah's shoulder. A bitter smile curled the girl's lips, but she did not move her eyes from Lillian's face.
"Fanny, if you select that plain-spoken little one you will have some temper to curb," suggested Mr. Grayson, somewhat amused by Claudia's burst of indignation.