"What do you mean, girlie?"
"Why, mumsie, Mrs. Beauchamp used to be so cross, and now she's the nicest old dear possible; and Monica was nasty and uppish, you know, at first. I didn't think I ever could like her, and now I think she's almost too good to live, sometimes! And Olive is nicer too, although I shall always like my darling Elsa best." Here Amethyst paused, from sheer want of breath, for her tongue always ran twice as quickly as other people's.
"Is that all, girlie?" put in Mrs. Drury, who was much amused at the comparisons, but felt they were truthfully if somewhat quaintly made.
"Oh, no! There's Lily Howell, just think how she's altered. I don't believe any one would know her nowadays who knew her then; she's so well behaved, and speaks quietly, and seldom gets into trouble at school. I'm so glad Mrs. Howell buys plain hats and things for her now," Amethyst ran on. "I don't believe she could help being vulgar when she wore such hideously gaudy hats and dresses."
"What has Lily's clothing to do with the bicycle accident? You have wandered a long way from that," remarked her mother, with a smile.
"Oh, mumsie, I haven't! It's just because Lily wants to copy everything Monica does now, that she is so much more lady-like. I think she nearly worships Monica."
"Hush, Amethyst! Don't speak like that, dear," reproved her mother; "I can quite understand that Lily feels she owes a good deal to her. I hope that she will one day be a star in Monica's crown. I am so glad that they have begun to attend St. Paul's."
"Mrs. Howell and Lily were both at church twice last Sunday, mumsie, and Mr. Howell was there in the evening. I remember noticing him, because I did think father must have chosen his text on purpose for him, only of course he didn't, because he couldn't possibly have known he would be there."
And Mrs. Drury, who had vivid recollections of the intense earnestness with which her husband had preached from Mark viii. 36, on the subject of Eternal Profit and Loss, said, softly, as they turned in at the Vicarage gates: "Father always asks God to give him the right text to preach from, girlie, and He knew just who would be hearing the sermon."
Shrewd little Amethyst had been fairly correct in her rough-and-ready epitome of the happenings of the last six months, which had certainly left their mark on all concerned, and, in every case, for the better, to a greater or smaller degree.