'Well, what is it?'
A girl of about twenty or twenty-one years of age entered the room, looking as though she had been disturbed and resented it. At sight of her my heart sank. Lilian's sister! This underbred girl, arrayed in the latest style of elegance as interpreted by Islington. Everything about her was in the extreme of penny-fashion-book style; the largest of chignons, the fluffiest of curls covering her forehead down to her eyebrows, the longest of ribbons streaming down her back, and the latest inventions in the way of imitation jewellery. I am bound to acknowledge that she was in her way good-looking; with plenty of dark hair, large round dark eyes, red (not pink) and white complexion, and good though large figure, and yet—— Could any one in the world be more disappointing, as Lilian's sister?
She crossed the room, seated herself with a dégagé air in a lounging-chair, and playing with a bunch of trinkets, it was then the fashion to call charms, upon her watch-chain, she languidly inquired if we had come about the music lessons.
'Because I have almost made up my mind to engage a gentleman. I require something advanced, you know; and the gentleman who is organist at our church gives lessons to a select few, and'——
'Are you Marian?' asked Lilian, white and trembling.
'I am Miss Reed,' very stiffly returned that young lady.
'This young lady is Miss Farrar,' I put in, to help Lilian.
'O indeed!' returned Miss Reed.
I saw that the name told her nothing. I know now that she had never been told her father's name.