"And don't you love your own dear sister Emily?"
"Oh, of course I do! I love her very much indeed."
"Then I wish you would go and tell her so, for she is sitting not far away crying very bitterly."
"Crying?" said little Agnes.
"Yes—because you haven't been with her at all to-day, and hardly yesterday; she can't make out what it means, and it troubles her a good deal. Do go and put your arms round her neck, and tell her that although you love Irene, you can never love any one like you do her."
"But I think," said little Agnes, who was the soul of truth, "that I do love Irene quite as much as I love Emily."
"Then you oughtn't to, for Miss Frost is your own sister, and she has done so much for you—far more than you can in the least understand at present."
"Anyhow, I do love her very much, and I'll tell her so," said the little girl.
She flew away from Rosamund, who sat down on the seat which Agnes had occupied. She had not been there more than a minute or two before Irene, carrying a basket of fruit in her hand, entered in great excitement.
"Where is Agnes? Where is my dear little pet? Oh, you are there, Rosamund!"