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“Thank you!” said Lottie in alarm; “but I never wear anything, you know, except poor mamma’s little pearl locket.”

“Sure I know,” said the old woman, with a laugh; “a body can’t wear what they haven’t got! But you needn’t turn up your little nose at my big brooch, for when it was made it was the height of the fashion, and now everything that’s old is the height of the fashion. And so me Lady Caroline, that’s too grand to say ‘Good morning to ye, ma’am,’ or ‘Good evening to ye,’ after ye’ve been her neighbour for a dozen years, stops her grand carriage to bid this bit of a girl to tea, and Miss Lottie takes it as cool as snowballs, if ye please. Well, well, honey! I don’t envy ye, not I; but you’re born to luck as sure as the rest of us are born to trouble, and that all the Abbey can see.”

“I born to luck! I don’t think there is much sign of it,” said Lottie, though with a tumultuous leap of the heart which contradicted the words. “And what is there, I should like to know, that all the Abbey can see?”