Bulbs and Blossoms

It was five o'clock in the afternoon. Miss Hunter, a tall, dignified looking woman, was presiding at the afternoon tea table in the drawing room of Chatts Chase. Miss Amabel Hunter stood at the window in a rather muddy riding habit, and she was speaking in her sharp, short tones to her twin sister Hester, who lay back in the depths of a large armchair, a novel open in her lap. Sitting by the cheery wood fire was the youngest of the sisters, a frail and delicate invalid. She was turning her face anxiously towards the speaker, and now put in her word very gently.