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‘Well, Ella, dear,’ she began, ‘mother and I have seen your house. George has quite surpassed our wildest expectations. Accept my compliments!’

‘Flossie,’ said her mother severely, ‘will you kindly choose some other topic? I really feel too seriously annoyed about all this to bear to hear it spoken of just yet. I think you shall come with me to the Amberleys’ garden-party this afternoon, and not Ella, as we are dining out this evening. You had better stay at home and rest, Ella.’

In this, and countless other ways, was Ella made to feel that she was in disgrace.

Nor did Flossie spare her sister when they were alone. ‘Poor dear mother!’ she said, ‘I quite thought that house would have broken her heart–oh, I’m not saying a word against it, Ella, I know you like it, and I’m sure it looks very comfortable–everything so sensible and useful, and the kitchen really charming; mother and I liked it best of all the rooms. Such a horrid man let us in; he was at work there, and he would follow us all about, and tell mother his entire history. I don’t think he could have been quite sober, he would insist on turning all the taps on everywhere. I suppose, Ella, it’s ever so much cheaper to furnish as you and George have done; that’s the worst of pretty things, they do cost such a lot! I’d no idea you were so practical, though,’ and so on.

On Sunday George came to luncheon. He was delighted to hear from Flossie that they had been to the house, and gave a boisterously high-spirited account of his labours. ‘It was a grind,’ he informed them, ‘and, as for those painter-fellows, I began to think they’d stay out the entire lease.’

‘Art is long, George,’ observed Flossie, wickedly.

‘Oh yes, I know; but they promised faithfully to be out in ten days, and they were over three weeks!’

‘But look at the result! George, how did you find out that Ella liked grained doors?’

‘Well, to tell you the truth, Flossie, that was a bit of a fluke. The man told me that graining was coming in again, and I said, “Grain ’em, then”–I didn’t know!’

In short, he was more provokingly dense than ever to-day, and Ella found herself growing more and more captious and irritable that afternoon; he could not understand why she was so disinclined to talk; even the dear little house of which she was so soon to be the mistress failed to interest her.

‘You have told me twice already that you got the drawing-room carpet a great bargain, and only paid four pounds ten for the table in the dining-room,’ she broke out. ‘Can’t we take that for granted in future?’

‘I forgot I’d told you; I thought it was the mater,’ he said; ‘and I say, Ella, how about pictures? Jessie’s promised to do us some water-colours–she’s been taking lessons lately, you know–but we shall want one or two prints for the dining-room, shan’t we? You can pick them up second-hand very cheap.’

‘Oh yes, yes; anything you please, George!… No, no; I’m not cross, I’m only tired, especially of talking about the house. It is quite finished, you know, so what is there to discuss?’

During the days that followed, Flossie devised an ingenious method of tormenting Ella; she laid out her pocket-money, of which she had a good deal, on the most preposterous ornaments–a pair of dangling cut-glass lustres, bead mats, a trophy of wax fruit under a glass shade, gaudy fire-screens and flowerpots, all of which she solemnly presented to her suffering sister. This was not pure mischief or unkindness on Flossie’s side, but part of a treatment she had hit upon for curing Ella of her folly. And at last the worm turned. Flossie came in one day with a cheap plush and terra-cotta panel of appalling ugliness.

‘For the drawing-room, dear,’ she observed blandly, and Ella suddenly burst into a flood of tears.