Her sister's innocent pleasure over the letter and the hearty way in which she endorsed the flattery, made her once more a comfort to her, and once again she turned towards her and spoke.
"What are we to do about this woman, this sister, this Mrs. Dorriman, Madge?"
Margaret laughed softly.
"You will get the better of them all in time," she said; "you make every one do as you like; every one admires you so much; you are so clever, darling, and so beautiful. I am quite sure you will marry a duke."
Grace smiled; she was beginning to forget the wound she had received, and her sister's consolations were very sweet to her. She went to bathe her face and said, laughingly,
"Unfortunately no dukes are in sight here; and Margaret," she said suddenly, with a little shudder, "I feel as if in this dreary place no one will ever come."
"That is nonsense, darling," Margaret said quietly; "the prince always comes just when great distress is there, just when the princess needs him."
A turn in the cabbage-garden, revealed a few coloured leaves and some late flowers mixed with the "useful" vegetables; these were better than nothing, and the girls gathered them and then went through the town, attracting, of course, a good deal of attention in that out-of-the-way place, where few gentry ever came.
Grace went home not altogether unhappy. One or two clerks and several of the shop people had followed her and her sister with admiring glances, and, in the absence of all else, this was acceptable.
She returned to the house in good-humour, and walked more daintily than ever, meeting Mr. Sandford at the front door. He had come home earlier than usual to receive his sister. He was satisfied to see she was not sulky; if she had been he had made up his mind to put it down, and her too, at once.