s, for politicians who do not dabble in the
reformation of society find other and more congenial haunts. This
many-minded crowd of acolytes, and devotees, and apprentices, owe much
to the hospitable women who bring them together in a sort of indulgent
dame's school, where their angles are rubbed down, and whence they
merge, perhaps, as Arthur Hallam said, the picturesque of man and man,
but certainly also more fitted for their work in the social mill than if
they had never known that kindly feminine influence.

Lettice became especially fond of one of these minor queens of literary
society, who received her friends on Sunday afternoon, and whose
drawing-room was frequently attended by a dozen or a score of
well-reputed men and women. Mrs. Hartley was an excellent hostess. She
was not only careful, to begin with, about her own acquaintance,
cultivating none but those whom she had heard well spoken of by
competent judges, but she knew how to make a second choice amongst the
chosen, bringing kindred spirits together with a happy, instinctive
sense of their mutual suitabilities. In spite of her many amiable and
agreeable qualities, however, it took Lettice a little time to believe
that she should ever make a friend of Mrs. Hartley, whose habit of
assorting and labelling her acquaintances in groups struck her at first
as artificial and conventional. Lettice objected, for her own part, to
be classified.

She had been entreated so often by Clara to go to one of Mrs. Hartley's
afternoons that it was with some compunction of heart that she prepared
at last to fulfil her long-delayed promise. She walked from Brook Green
to Edwardes Square, about three o'clock one bright Sunday afternoon, in
February, and found Clara waiting for her. Clara was looking very trim
and smart in a new gown of inexpensive material, but the latest, and she
surveyed Lettice in a comprehensive manner from top to toe, as if to
ascertain whether a proper value had been attached to Mrs. Hartley's
invitation.

"You look very nice," was her verdict. "I am so glad that you have
relieved your black at last, Lettice. There is no reason why you should
not wear a little white or lavender."

And indeed this mitigation of her mourning weeds was becoming to
Lettice, whose delicate bloom showed fresh and fair against the black
and white of her new costume. She had pinned a little bunch of sweet
violets into her jacket, and they harmonized excellently well with the