"'No, no!' said my mother, 'the next sentence.'
"'Dear Cecilia was all sweetness. The dress was—'
"My mother took the letter, and found the right place herself, and then I read:
"'If you cannot come yourself, at least let us renew acquaintance in our children. I think you have two girls about thirteen? My Lucy, a dear child just fifteen, feels keenly the loss of her only sister, and some young companions would be a boon, as all our company will be elders. Pray send them. They can come by the coach, and shall be met at Durnford, at the Elephant and Castle.'
"'Is the other sister dead?' asked Fatima, pityingly, when we had discussed our personal interest in the subject.
"'Oh, no! only married,' said my mother.
"It was decided that we should go. This decision was not arrived at at once, or without some ups and downs. My mother could not go herself, and had some doubts as to our being old enough, as yet, to go out visiting alone. It will be believed that I made much of being able to say—'But you know, I am thirteen, now.'
"Next day, in the evening, my father was busy in his study, and my mother sat at the open window, with Fatima and me at her feet. The letter of acceptance had been duly sent by the messenger, but she had yet a good deal of advice to give, and some doubts to express. She was one of those people who cannot sit with idle fingers, and as she talked she knitted. We found it easy enough to sit idle upon two little footstools, listening to the dear kind voice, and watching two little clouds, fragments of a larger group, which had detached themselves, and were sailing slowly and alone across the heavens.
"'They are like us two,' Fatima had whispered to me; 'perhaps they are going to see some other clouds.'
"'I have observed two things which are apt to befall young people who go out visiting,' said my mother, as she turned a row in her knitting, 'one is, that they neglect little good habits while they are away, and the other is, that they make themselves very disagreeable when they come back.'