, and whom they saw regularly at the daily services at St.
Michael's Church. They were pleasant-looking girls, with whom Nuttie
longed to fraternise, and she was mortified at never being allowed to
get beyond a few frigidly civil words in the street, more especially
when she came upon sketching parties and picnics in which she was never
included.

It was all very well for her mother to answer her murmurs and
wonderings with 'You know people are very exclusive, my dear.' Nuttie
began to guess that her father and her name were the real reason, and
her eyes were further opened later in the spring when Mr. Egremont, who
had recovered unusual health and vigour, took his ladies to Mentone to
spend a day or two in the newer beauties there. Alice had her
misgivings, but the visit was avowedly to show the place to her, and
she could not reasonably object. He was in unusual good humour, and
even tolerated their ecstasies at the scenery and the flowers, dined at
the table d'hote and found acquaintance, enjoyed himself, and in the
forenoon, while Nuttie was out wondering and admiring, and going as far
as she could drag Martin, he expressed to his wife that she would be
astonished at the gardens and the music of Monte Carlo.

There, however, Alice made a stand. 'Thank you, it is very kind, but
if you please, I should not like to take Ursula to Monte Carlo, or to
go there myself,' she said in an apologetic tone.

He laughed. 'What! you are afraid of making the little one a confirmed
gambler?'

'You know I am not, but--'

'You think the little prig will be contaminated, eh?'

'Well, I think it will be happier for her if she never sees
anything--of the kind.'

'You little foolish Edda, as if her eyes or ears need see anything but
flowers and music and good company.'

'I know that, but I had so much rather not. It was a sweet face and
caressing voice that implored, and he still was good humoured.

'Well, well, I don't want to drag you, old lady, against your will,
though I fancy you would be rather surprised at the real aspect of the
abode of iniquity your fancy depicts.'

'Oh, thank you, thank you so much!'

'What an absurd little woman it is! I wonder if you would thank me as
heartily supposing I cleared a round thousand and gave you--say a
diamond necklace?'

'I am sure I should not!'

'No, I don't believe you would. That restless little conscience of
yours would be up on end. After all, I don't know that you