"Because you wear green. You have a green sash on now, and a green ribbon round your hat."
"Mother was fond of green, and mother is dead," said Bertha.
A kind of dewy moisture came to her eyes which did not amount to tears.
"Well, if that is the reason, pax!" said Irene.
Suddenly she held out her hand. Now, naughty as she was, there was no one who could be quite so charming as Irene when she chose; and the next minute, Bertha had not only shaken that hand, but had drawn Irene forward and kissed her on her lips.
"You are so very beautiful," she said. "I never saw you before. If you were good you'd be delightful. You'd be such a help to us all. We want some one lovely just to look at. Oh! wouldn't it be sweet, Cartery dear, to try and make pictures of her little face?"
"That will do. I hate people to praise me," said Irene. "I am not at all good at present; and if I am beautiful, why, there's an end of it. What I want to say now is this: Miss Carter, will you forgive me?"
"I—I'll try to."
"Are you still very much afraid of me?"
"I confess that I am."