nd the further result of their entire devotion to one
kind of study was, that they could do nothing else.

Mrs. Macpherson began to realize that her system of education had
possibly left something to be desired on the Monday morning that Mr.
Esterworth brought up his hounds to Shadonake House. It was provoking
to see all the other ladies attired in their habits, whilst her own
daughters had to come down to breakfast in their ordinary morning
dresses, because they had never been taught to ride.

"Are you not going to ride?" she heard Guy Miller ask of Sophy, who was
decidedly the best looking and the pleasantest of the sisters.

"No, we have never ridden at all; mamma never thought we had the time for
it," answers Sophy.

"I think," said Mrs. Macpherson, turning to her hostess, "that I shall
pursue a different course with my younger girls. I feel sorry now that
Sophy and Jessie do not ride. Music and painting are, of course, the most
charming accomplishments that a woman can have; but still it is not at
all times that they are useful."

"No, you cannot be always painting and playing."

"Neither can you be always riding," said Mrs. Macpherson, with some
asperity, for there was a little natural jealousy between these ladies on
the subject of their girls; "but still----"

"But still, you will acknowledge that I have done right in letting
Beatrice hunt. You may be quite sure that there is no accomplishment
which brings a girl so much into notice in the country. Look at her now."

Mrs. Macpherson looked and saw Beatrice in her habit at the far end of
the dining-room surrounded by a group of men in pink, and she also saw
her own daughters sitting neglected by themselves on the other side of
the room. She made no observation upon the contrast, for it would hardly
have been polite to have done so; but she made a mental note of the fact
that Mrs. Miller was a very clever woman, and that, if you want an ugly
daughter to marry, you had better let her learn how to ride across
country. And she furthermore decided that her third daughter, Alice, who
was not blessed with the gift of beauty, should forthwith abandon the
cultivation of a very feeble and uncertain vocal organ and be sent to the
nearest riding-school the very instant she returned to her home.

Beatrice Miller rode very well indeed; it was the secret of her uncle's
affection for her, and many a good day's sport had the two enjoyed side
by side across the flat field