By this time, Hannah and Salome were almost women. The high-bred, irreproachable, somewhat narrow-minded Scotch cousin in whose home they had been living had left her stamp on them. They hardly seemed like her own daughters to Mrs. Tracy now. They were far more orderly and methodic in their habits than she was herself, and held stricter views with regard to the expenditure of time and money. The mother felt half afraid of these very wise girls. She was thankful that they were so good, but she could not help wishing that they had been a little less strong-minded, and could have made some allowance for the faults of their pretty, perverse half-sister.
Then, with a sigh, she would remind herself that it was only natural that they should be hard upon poor little Juliet, and resent her presence in their home. And the mother's heart clung the more passionately to the child who seemed so much more her own than these others. The girls were quick to see that their mother loved Juliet best, and their minds were not too high-toned to admit of jealousy. Juliet became a constant thorn in their sides. They looked upon her as the disturber of the peace of their home. But Juliet was her mother's darling, though, in truth, a very naughty darling.
For a year or two after her return from India, Mrs. Tracy had a hard struggle to maintain a little home. But Hannah studied with an assiduity which astonished her mother, whose own education had been of the old-fashioned, superficial order; she passed one examination after another with honours, and finally attained the immediate goal of her ambition by being appointed assistant-mistress in a high school. Then it was that Mrs. Tracy felt justified in taking The Poplars as her residence, which had now been their home for over eight years.
The meal was half over, when a loud and very characteristic knock at the front door announced Juliet's return. The next minute she entered the room, a slight, graceful girl, whom no one would have taken to be more than seventeen, though, in truth, she had passed her nineteenth birthday.
A greater contrast than her appearance presented to that of her sisters it would be difficult to imagine. She was delicately fair, with eyes of that deep, soft hue which is better described as violet than blue. Masses of soft bright hair, which might justly be termed golden, though not of the deep reddish tinge which often wins that name, showed beneath the sailor hat which, either by intention or accident, was placed on her head at rather an unusual angle. Juliet's wavy, flossy locks were always more or less dishevelled. Perhaps she meant them to express a protest against her sisters' smooth, shining polls. Her serge gown had quite a different effect from Salome's, yet was made of the same material. It suited her charmingly, though it was shabby, and an ink-stain soiled the frilled cambric vest.
Mrs. Tracy turned with a smile of welcome on her face as the girl entered. It was a delight to her to see the sweet, bright face that smiled at her in response. She thought that no one could fail to feel the charm of that young face; but her sisters saw in Juliet's demeanour only the signs of those qualities of mind and character which they held in special abhorrence, and her prettiness was to them merely an aggravating circumstance, heightening the enormity of her heedlessness.
She came into the room swinging a strapful of books in one hand, and she surveyed the party at the table in the coolest manner for a moment, ere, advancing to her mother's side, she bent to kiss her.
"How is it you are so late, Juliet?" asked her mother, with only the faintest reproof in her tones. "See, we have almost finished dinner."
"I walked a few steps with Flossie Chalcombe," replied Juliet, her eyes flashing defiance at her sister Hannah; "she had something to tell me. I did not think it was so late."
"I told you it was getting late," said Hannah; "I warned you there was no time to spare."