Kitty, at sight of her, suddenly realized with overwhelming shame that in her zeal to drive her father and make her appeal, she had neither brushed her own hair nor washed her hands, nor changed her old garden hat or morning frock.

She was, she knew, as disreputable-looking and untidy a daughter as any father could feel ashamed of.
"How stupid of me--how stupid of me," she thought, full of vexation with herself, "when I knew I was coming here, too." There was nothing to be done, though, but to go in and live through this ordeal as best she might.

"Why do these things always happen to me ?" she groaned miserably.

"If I had wanted very much to go in, and had had on all new beautiful clothes, I should have been left out here to spoil them.

I wish father would come; he must have been gone quite half an hour, I am sure, and Sir James can't want him any longer." In the hall Lady Kitson held out a delicate white hand, with sparkling rings on her fingers, and took Kitty's grubby one in hers.