Now I must go to the children; I hope, Helen, you
will really enter into the spirit of the day, little as you seem to
care about the church.'
Helen gave a deep sigh as her sister left the room; she was vexed at
having been laughed at, at the disregard of her arguments, at the
reproach, and perhaps a little at Elizabeth's having taken no notice
of the beautiful pyramid of cherries which had cost her half an
hour's labour.
There was some truth in what Helen said of her cousin, though few
would have given his faults so much prominence. Rupert Merton was an
only son, and very handsome, and this was the history of nearly all
his foibles. No one could say that his career at school, and so far
at college, had not been everything that could be wished, and most
people had nearly as high an opinion of him as he had of himself; but
Helen, who had almost always been made a laughing-stock when he was
with her, had not quite so agreeable a recollection of his lively,
graceful, pleasant manners as her sisters had, and was glad to find
that his tormenting ways were not entirely caused by her own
querulous temper, as Elizabeth sometimes told her they were.
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