re a part of it all," and again her
first enthusiasm manifested itself in her voice.

* * * * *

When the end of the week came, Mary Lee's lonely little heart still
cried out at being kept "a stranger within the gates." It puzzled her
that all her gentle advances should be politely ignored. Nobody seemed
to hear either Travis or herself if they ventured a remark. Not an
eyelid lifted in recognition if they joined a group on the porch or
under the trees by the hammocks. But Travis did not seem to notice.
She planned drives and excursions and long walks that kept them away
from the house much of the time after the first two days, and Mary Lee
was still more puzzled that Travis should be so blind. She wondered if
she were not overly sensitive herself, and decided not to cloud
Travis's evident enjoyment by a single whisper of her suspicions.

Still it was not drives and excursions for which Mary Lee had longed.
It was companionship and many friends she wanted, and it was hard to
hide her disappointment when she wrote home, and to make her letters
as buoyant and cheery as at first. One evening, after one of these
expeditions, she left Travis on the porch and went up-stairs with a
heavy heart to write the usual daily letter. She had heard the girls
planning a musicale to be given the following night, and she had a
sore, left-out feeling, because Travis had not been included. Sitting
down by the lamp, she picked up the pen and wrote three words: "Dear,
dear father!" Then she laid down her pen and leaned wearily back in
the chair. Somehow there seemed so little to tell. Her door was open
into the hall to admit the breeze, and she heard some one coming up
the stairs. There were voices passing her door, and she recognised the
first as Hester Tyler's. She was a young artist, lately arrived, who
was a favourite with every one. "It's hardly fair, Molly," she was
saying. "People who are sure of their own social position have no need
to snub anybody. Miss Dent is certainly a lady, any one can see that,
and if her voice is as good as Miss Philura says, she ought to be
included in the programme."

"That might do for you, Hester,"--and Mary Lee recognised the voice of
her Queen Rose,--"but you are too absorbed in your art to know
anything about conventionalities. We society girls have to put up some
sort of hedge. If people of that class want to push themselves in
where they are not wanted, and Miss Phi