nk, but
don't _preach_! Preaching does me such a lot of harm. Methinks I
descry in you a latent tendency to preach; nevertheless, somehow--I
can't think how--you've comforted me to-day and so I'm grateful.

"Many happy returns of your twenty-fifth birthday. I am a year older,
and feel pleasantly superior.

"Yours sincerely,

"Katrine Beverley.

"PS.--Please go on about `The girl you would fancy' ... I have a fancy
to hear!"

CHAPTER TEN.

It was a week after the garden party. A persistent rain was drenching
the trees in the garden, and turning the gravel path into miniature
torrents. The atmosphere in the low, panelled rooms was damp and
chilly. Katrine, in a flannel shirt of her favourite rich blue, was
busy with account books at the centre table. Grizel, in a white gown,
and a red nose, was miserably rubbing her hands together, and drumming
her small feet on the floor.

"Katrine!"

"Yes."

"I'm cold."

Katrine glanced over the rim of the grocer's book.

"Naturally! Who wouldn't be? A muslin gown, this morning! If you'd an
ounce of sense, you'd go upstairs and change it at once."

Grizel's face fell, like that of a small disappointed child. She
shivered, and her nose looked redder than ever.

"I was hinting," she sighed softly, "for a fire."

"I _know_ that, my dear, perfectly well, but you are not going to get
it."

"If you were a kind, polite hostess--"

"No, I shouldn't, because in an hour's time the rain will stop, and the
room would be close and stuffy all day. Besides, we are going out. If
you will be quiet for ten minutes, I shall have finished these books,
and we'll go out shopping. So you'll _have_ to change."

Grizel stared, a glimmer of interest struggling with dismay.

"What are you going to buy?"

"Vegetables for dinner, and bacon, and pay the books."

"You expect me to walk out in a torrent for _that! I_ won't go. I
won't change my frock either. I'll go to bed."

There was not the least note of offence in Grizel's voice. It preserved
its deep note of good-nature, but it sounded obstinate, and her little
face was fierce in its militance. Katrine, unabashed, went on checking
off figures.

"Nonsense. It will do you good. Rain is good for the complexion. Your
face looks tartan, and your nose is red."

"I like it red," said Grizel serenely. She sat another moment nursing
her cold hands. "And I won't buy cabbages either," she added defiantly.
"It's n