inary it
seems!" Rosalind gave a chilly little laugh, and tilted her chin in the
air. "You are vewy couwageous, Mawiquita. I should never have dared
such an experiment. The Asplins are charming in the country, but they
seem out of place in town. And your first season too! What possessed
you to saddle yourself with such a hopeless burden as poor fat
Mellicent?"

"Poor fat Mellicent is not hopeless at all; she is so much appreciated
to-night that I've not had a chance of a word with her for the last
hour. She is not fat, and looks far too bonnie to deserve any pity;
besides, I wanted to see her badly, and didn't care a bit about her
appearance. I love the Asplins, and would do anything I could to give
them pleasure. They were unspeakably good to Arthur and to me. I don't
know what we should have done without them all the time we were alone."

Rosalind's face sobered suddenly, and she gave a struggling sigh.

"You are just the same as ever, I can see, Mawiquita," she said slowly,
"not changed a bit. I'm so glad you have come home, for I want to speak
to you about--oh, lots of things! You don't know how often I have
thought of you, and said to myself, `I'll ask Peggy! I'll see what
Peggy says!' I've never had a girl fwiend that I cared for so much as
you, and I knew you would say just what you thought, however
disagweeable it might be. I think it's vewy bwave to say disagweeable
things, because even if people take your advice, they are always cwoss
with you for giving it. I like people to like me, so I find out what
they want to do, and tell them it is the vewy wisest plan, and they go
away more pleased with me than ever; but I knew you wouldn't do that,
unless you were vewy much changed. I wanted you to be the same, Peggy,
and I heard some things about you lately which set my mind at rest on
that point. You still use big words, I hear, and are vewy, vewy
dignified when any one ventures to contwadict you, but not too dignified
to pass your neighbour salt instead of sugar, or to pretend to arrange a
fwiend's sash, and then tie it in such a way that the poor thing dwagged
her chair with her when she twied to rise. Not too dignified to play
your old twicks still, Peggy Saville."

"Who has been telling tales about me?" cried Peggy wrathfully. "A
little bird, indeed! A great big bird, you mean. A big enough bird to
have kept his own counsel. It's a poor thing, if one can't have a
little innocent fun in