be more winning, sweet and seductive. But all her tenderness was
for her father: with me she was sometimes proud and shy, sometimes
wearing the manner of a loving little child. I often called her "little
sister" in those days, and so, and in no other wise, I held her. When
she was kind, we had pleasant talks together: when she treated me with
coolness and reserve, I laughed and let her go. Her father needed her,
and I did not; and I paid scant attention to her little caprices,
although I scolded her for them now and then.

"Do you wish to treat me as you treat Thorpe?" I would ask. "I am not a
tame cat yet."

"How do I treat Mr. Thorpe?" she inquired. "I intend to treat him as I
do the man who places my chair."

"You don't always manage that, my dear child. For instance, last night,
when you were going to sing, you showed plainly that you were vexed at
his officiousness in opening the piano and placing your stool for you,
and declined singing at once. Now, had Mills performed those slight
services you would have said coolly, 'Thank you, Mills,' and not have
wasted a thought on the matter more than if some interior mechanism had
raised the cover of the instrument."

"But Mr. Thorpe looks at me as Mills would never dare to look. He
thrusts his personality upon me," exclaimed Helen in a small fury. "Let
him pay his compliments to Georgy: I do not want them. Think of it! he
called me Miss Helen this morning!"

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him nothing: I looked----"

"I pity him then: I know how you can look."

"Am I so dreadful?" she asked coaxingly. "Tell me how to behave to young
gentlemen, Floyd. Really, I don't know."

"To me you should behave in the most affectionate manner, mademoiselle.
Granted that, the more disdainful you are to other fellows the more I
shall admire you."

"Really, now?"

"Well, since you are in earnest, dear child, if I were you I would show
nothing but kindness to my friends.

Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike;
But, like the sun, they shine on all alike,

is a very pretty description of the manner of a successful woman."

"But I cannot be like that," she cried plaintively. "Would you like me
to treat you and Mr. Thorpe in precisely the same way, Floyd?"

"Not at all. Don't count me in with the rest of your admirers: I must
have the first, best, dearest place."

"I am sure you always do," she remonstrated in a tone of injury. "You
come next after papa. If