A Bevy of Girls by L.T. Meade

It was between three and four o'clock on that same day when Angela St Just stepped out of her pretty carriage and went up the neatly kept path which led to Mrs Johnston's house. Mrs Johnston was not a favourite of hers, nor, for that matter, of anybody else. How Mercy, her nice little maidservant, managed her so wonderfully; how Miss Palliser, the girl who had lately been married and gone to America, had put up with her, was a marvel to most people. But then, Angela rather liked people whom others disliked, and she generally managed to give them a ray of brightness. She entered the little parlour now, and was received by the old lady with outstretched hand.

"My dear, my dear! this is good," she said. "I am so delighted, Angela; sit dawn, and tell me all about yourself."