r thought
of that. Oh dear, oh dear! my victory over self will not be such an easy
one as I had imagined. I hope Jack won't marry that hateful Gordon girl,
nor any of those simpering Symonses. But, after all, what does it matter
to me whom Jack marries? I begin to think I am very mean after all; I
hate myself. Positively I--"

"Come in."

"Sir Digby has called, Miss Keane, and desires to see you for a moment.
He is in the tartan boudoir."

"Tell him, Smith, that I am sorry I cannot leave my room--that I have a
headache--that--stay, Smith, stay. Say that I shall be down in a few
minutes."

"Yes, Miss Gertrude."

"It is best over," she murmured to herself as Smith left.

She touched the bell, and next minute she was seated before a tall
mirror, at each side of which burned a star of candles, and her maid was
dressing her hair.

"Mary," she said, as she rose and smoothed out the folds of her blue
silk dress, "do I look my best?"

"Oh, Miss Keane, you look 'most like a fairy--the low-bodied blue, and
the pink camellia in your hair. You are so beautiful that if _I_ were a
knight I should come for you with a chariot and six, and carry you away
to my castle, and have a real live dragon o' purpose to guard you--I
would really, miss."

"Do you think, Mary, I could act well?"

"Oh, Miss Keane, how you do talk! Actors is low. Miss Gerty, always look
your best; but acting--no, no, miss, I won't have she."

And Mary tossed her head regardless of grammar.

Mary was a little Essex maid that Miss Keane had had for years, and had
succeeded in spoiling, as children are spoiled.

"Ah dear," said the girl, "and to think that to-morrow is Jack's coming
o' age, and he won't be here! You don't mind _me_ a-callin' of him Jack,
does ye, Miss Gerty? Heigh-ho! didn't he used to chuck me under the chin
just, the dear, bright boy? 'Mary,' he says once, 'when I comes of age I
means to marry you right off the reel.' And I took him in my arms and
kissed him on what Tim would call the spur o' the moment. Then Jack ups
with a glass o' ale--it were in the kitching, miss--and he jumps on to a
chair and draws his navy dirk. 'Here's the way,' he cries, 'that they
tosses cans in the service. And I'll give you a toast,' he says. 'I
drinks

'To the wind that blows,
And the ship that goes,
And the girl as loves a sailor,
Hip, hip, hooray!'

But run away, Miss Gerty. Only _no_ acting, mind. Oh dear, oh dear! I
wish