more blessed to give than to
receive, and sitting perched on the ottoman with her little satin shoes
braced against the floor which they barely touched, enjoyed a reflected
pleasure in Mellicent's conversation, blissfully unconscious of the fact
that every expression which flittered over her friend's face was
faithfully reflected on her own. The worst of being born a mimic is
that on occasions one acts a part without being in the least conscious
of so doing, and so while Miss Peggy fondly imagined herself to be
wearing an expression of dignified repose, in reality her features were
never still for the fraction of a second. Mellicent smiled--she smiled
also; Mellicent shook her head--she did the same, until all the little
sprays of the white aigrette shook and quivered again; Mellicent
appeared to question her companion--Peggy's eyebrows peaked themselves
in an inquiring arch; Mellicent cast down her eyes and modestly studied
the carpet--prunes and prisms were reflected on Peggy's face in an
attack of the most virulent description. So it went on for five minutes
on end, the little play being hidden from the surrounding gaze by a bank
of palms, through the boughs of which the unconscious actress studied
her part; but at the end of five minutes something happened which
completely altered the current of Peggy's thoughts. Mellicent's partner
called attention to something at the opposite end of the room, and the
girl turning to look at it, her understudy naturally followed her
example, and straight-way forgot Mellicent and her doings for the rest
of the evening.

Some one was leaning up against the doorway, studying her in his turn,
and at sight of him Peggy's heart gave a wild dance of agitation. The
crowds of gaily dressed visitors whizzed round and round like pieces of
glass in the old-fashioned kaleidoscope through which she used to gaze
in the vicarage drawing-room; the branches of the palms swayed about in
extraordinary fashion, and the face staring into her own grew dim and
indistinct. But it _was_ the same face. Oh yes! No one else could
possibly possess those deep-set eyes, those rugged features, that heavy
lock of hair across the brow. In spite of all reasons to the contrary,
it was Rob himself, and the next moment his well-known voice sounded in
her ear.

"Mariquita! Little Peggy! Is this really you?"

"Oh, Rob!" cried Peggy faintly, and could find no other word. He had
taken the seat beside her, an