were the last to
enter the dining-room. Lady Russell had arranged that the two little
girls were to sit together, but at the very last moment some change
was made, and Ermie to her horror found herself between her father and
a stout old gentleman, who was inclined to regard her as an
overdressed, but pretty little doll.

Mr. Wilton never fussed about dress, but he had a keen eye for the
proprieties. He saw at a glance that Lilias looked exactly as she
ought, and that Ermengarde did not, but he could not tell where the
difference lay. Ermie as a rule was one of the neatest of little
maids. To-night she was not untidy, and yet--he could not tell
why--she looked all wrong.

Mr. Wilton sighed, thought of his dead wife, wondered how he could
ever manage his fast growing-up family, and then slightly turning his
back on Ermie, tried to forget his cares in conversation with his
neighbor on his other side.

The fat old gentleman began to talk to Ermengarde.

"Home for the holidays, eh, my dear?" he began, half-winking at her.

"I don't go to school," answered Ermengarde. She flushed angrily, and
her reply was in her primmest voice.

The fat old gentleman finished his soup calmly. Ermie's prim
indignation amused him. He glanced from her childish face to her grown
up head, and then said in a semi-confiding whisper: "Tell me, do you
consider a classical education essential to the development of women's
brains?"

"Oh, I don't know," stammered poor Ermie.

"Then you're not a Girton girl?"

"No; why do you ask?" answered Ermengarde. She began to feel a little
flattered. The old gentleman must certainly consider her quite
grown-up.

"Well," he replied, with another comical twinkle in his eyes, "I
thought you seemed so intelligent, and although you have a young
face, you have somehow or other an old way about you. You'll forgive
my speaking frankly, my dear, but I notice that most old-young girls
attend some of the colleges."

Ermengarde felt delighted. She changed her mind about the fat old
gentleman, and began to regard him as a most agreeable person. He
considered her face remarkable for intelligence, and although she was
quite grown up, she looked sweetly youthful. She leant back in her
chair, and toyed with her food.

"I'm not very old," she began.

"Not more than eighteen, I should think," replied the old gentleman.

Ermengarde gave vent to a silvery laugh.

"Eh? You're not more than that, are you?" asked her