Flaming June | Page 4

as she moved, and her thin figure was
whale-boned into an unnatural rigidity.
Mrs Ramsden was, in appearance at least, a striking contrast to her
friend, being a dumpy little woman, in whose demeanour good-nature
vied with dignity. She was dressed in black, and affected an upright
feather in front of her bonnets. "To give me height, my dear!"

In looking at her one was irresistibly reminded of a pouter pigeon
strutting along on its short little legs, preening its sleek little head to
and fro above its protuberant breast.
"Read that!" said Miss Briskett, tragically, handing the thin sheet of
paper to her friend, and Mrs Ramsden put on her spectacles and read as
follows--
"My dear Sister,--Business connected with mines makes it necessary
for me to go out West for the next few months, and the question has
arisen how to provide for Cornelia meantime. I had various notions, but
she prefers her own (she generally does!), and reckons she can't fill in
this gap better than by running over to pay you a visit in the Old
Country. I can pick her up in the fall, and have a little trot round before
returning. She has friends sailing in the Lucania on the 15th, and
intends crossing with them. You will just have time to cable to put her
off if you are dead, or otherwise incapacitated; but I take it you will be
glad to have a look at my girl. She's worth looking at! I shall feel
satisfied to know she is with you. She might get up to mischief over
here.
"Looking forward to seeing you later on,--Your brother, Edward
Briskett."
"P S--Dear Aunt Soph, don't you worry to prepare! I'll just chip in, and
take you as you are. We'll have some high old times!--Your niece,
Cornelia."
Letter and eye-glasses fell together upon Mrs Ramsden's knee. She
raised startled eyes, and blinked dumbly at her friend.
Miss Briskett wagged her head from side to side, and heaved a
sepulchral sigh.
The halcyon days of peace were over!
CHAPTER TWO.

"My dear," said Mrs Ramsden, solemnly, "this is indeed great news. I
don't wonder that you feel unnerved!"
"I do, indeed. The three o'clock post came in, and I was quite surprised
when Mary came in with the salver. I was not expecting any letters. I
have so few correspondents, and I am mostly in their debt, I am afraid.
Still, of course, there are always the circulars. I looked for nothing
more exciting, and then--this arrived! I really felt that I could not sit
alone and think it out by myself all day long. I hope you will forgive
me for asking you to come over on such short notice."
"Indeed, I am flattered that you should wish to have me. Do tell me all
about this brother. He has lived abroad a long time, I think? It is the
eldest, is it not? The rich one--in America?"
"I believe he is rich for the moment. Goodness knows how long it may
last," sighed Miss Briskett, dolefully. "He speculates in mines, my dear,
and you know what that means! Half the time he is a pauper, and the
other half a millionaire, and so far as I can gather from his letters he
seems just as well satisfied one way as another. He was always a
flighty, irresponsible creature, and I fear Cornelia has taken after him."
"She is the only child?"
"Yes! She had an English mother, I'm thankful to say; but poor Sybil
died at her birth, and Edward never married again. He was devoted to
Sybil, and said he would never give another woman the charge of her
child. Such nonsense! As if any man on earth could look after a
growing girl, without a woman's help. Instead of a wise, judicious
stepmother, she has been left to nurses and governesses, and from what
I can hear, has ruled them, instead of the other way about. You can see
by the tone of her father's letter that he is absurdly prejudiced."
"That is natural, perhaps, with an only child, left to him in such
peculiarly sad circumstances. We must not judge him hardly for that,"
said little Mrs Ramsden, kindly. "Has the girl herself ever written to
you before, may I ask, or is this her first communication?"

Miss Briskett's back stiffened, and her thin lips set in a straight line.
"She has addressed little notes to me from time to time; on birthdays,
and Christmases, and so on; but to tell you the truth, my dear, I have
not encouraged their continuance. They were unduly familiar, and I
object to being addressed by abbreviations of my name. Ideas as to
what is right and fitting seem to differ on different sides of