"Lulu must have either given or lent it to her; or, perhaps, she bought it for herself. Uncle Jasper gave her a sovereign before she went away. I know Celia wanted a new brooch very much."
"She has it, then."
"Is it pretty?" Joy asked, naturally feeling interested.
"Why, yes, pretty in its way," Miss Pring replied. "One could not help noticing that it glittered so. All this cheap jewellery one sees is very effective, but I do not care see it worn, somehow. I am old-fashioned in my ideas, and dislike shams."
"That's what mother says. She likes things to be real."
"There is so much pretence nowadays," Miss Pring went on; "people are so fond of show. It's a very great pity. Look at Lulu Tillotson, for instance."
"But you don't dislike her, Miss Pring, do you?"
"No, certainly not. Her father has knowingly done his best to spoil her; has brought her up to please herself, and that is enough to ruin anyone's character, but it hasn't ruined Lulu's, which goes to show how much good there is beneath the veneer of selfishness and vanity in her of which I so strongly disapprove. I often think if her mother had lived, she would have been a very different sort of girl."
"Did you know Mrs. Tillotson?" Joy inquired.
"Yes. She was a very sweet woman, and one of the happiest creatures I ever met; she always seemed to me to be in the sunshine of God's presence—in the warmth of His love. Ah, it was a terrible blow to her husband when she died! God's ways are inscrutable in our eyes." Miss Pring's busy hands were quiet for a few minutes, and a wonderfully gentle expression crossed her plain, dark face as she thought of Lulu's young mother. "I knew the Tillotsons before I came to Home Vale, when I was richer than I am now," she proceeded, "but when loss of fortune came my way, I found them the same. Mr. Tillotson was ever a true friend to me, and I've always taken an interest in Lulu for her mother's sake. Sometimes she reminds me of her mother, when she forgets her fine clothes, and allows herself to be girlish and natural. Poor Lulu! I've tried to laugh her out of her foolish ways; but I fear I've done little good. Oh, look at Wag, my dear! He's digging a hole in the middle of that flower bed."