n. The two cousins went over the
ground again and again, but could come to no decision.

"Say what you will, _tres chere_!" said Rita, finally; "glorify your
gardener, give him the family wardrobe, the family papers; I keep watch
on him, that is all! Let Master Strong beware! Not for nothing was I
brought up on a plantation. Have I not known overseers, to say nothing
of hosts of servants, white, black, yellow? Your books, _chere
Marguerite_, do they teach you the knowledge of persons? Let him beware!
he knows not a Cuban!" and she nodded, and bent her brows so tragically
that Margaret could hardly keep her countenance.

"Have you ever acted, Rita?" she asked, following the train of her
thoughts. "I am sure you must do it so well."

"_Mi alma!_" cried Rita, "it was my joy! Conchita and I--_ahi_! what
plays we have acted in the myrtle-bower in the garden! Will you see me
act? You shall."

John Strong and his iniquities were forgotten in a moment. Bidding
Margaret call Peggy, and make themselves into an audience in the lower
hall, Rita whirled away to her own room, where they could hear her
singing to herself, and pulling open drawers with reckless ardour. The
two other girls ensconced themselves in a window-seat of the hall and
waited.

"Do you know what she is going to do?" asked Peggy.

Margaret shook her head. "Something pretty and graceful, no doubt. She
is a born actress, you know."

"I never saw an actress," said Peggy. "She--she is awfully fascinating,
Margaret, isn't she?"

Margaret assented warmly. There was no tinge of jealousy in her
composition, or she might have felt a slight pang at the tone of
admiring awe in which Peggy now spoke of her Cuban cousin. Things were
changed indeed since the night of their arrival.

"It isn't only that she is so awfully pretty," Peggy went on, "but she
moves so--and her voice is so soft, and--oh, Margaret, do you suppose I
can ever be the least like her, just the least bit in the world?"

She looked anxiously at Margaret, who gazed back affectionately at her,
at the round, rosy childish face, the little tilted nose, the fluffy,
fair hair. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to stroke and
pat Peggy as if she were a kitten, but no one would think of patting
Rita.

"Dear," said Margaret softly, "dear Peggy! I like you better as you are.
Of course Rita is very beautiful, and neither you nor I could ever look
in the least like her, Peggy. But--it is a great d