Presently the door opened softly, and Bet came creeping in. She never knew what reception she might get, and she had the miserable cowed manner of a beaten dog.
"Grandmother!"
Mrs. Skinner started, and said sharply—
"Well, what do you want?"
"Isn't she pretty? Isn't she a darling?"
"Stuff and nonsense! I don't care about beauty; it's only skin deep; and I dare say she's a pert little hussy. Don't go and bring her here again, I don't want her."
CHAPTER VII.
DARK DOINGS.
When Mr. Skinner had escorted Miss Pinckney home after their walk, he seated himself at supper with the air of one who was thoroughly at home and at his ease.