to cheer you. Won't we, Mina?'

'Suppose you begin by giving her some tea?' said Mrs. Fordyce. 'Then she
must have a little rest. She has very long cared for others, she must
have a taste of being cared for now.'

Gladys could not speak a word. She felt at home. A vague, delicious
sense of rest stole over her as she listened to these kind words, and
felt the subtle, beautiful influences of the place about her. It was
only a pleasant family room, which taste and wealth had appointed and
adorned, but it seemed like a king's palace to the girl who had long
walked in the darker places of the earth. Seeing her thus moved, mother
and daughters talked to each other, discussing the pleasant gossip of
the day, which always seems to gather round the table at five-o'clock
tea.

'Now, Clara, you will take Miss Graham up-stairs. I think you must allow
us to call you Gladys, my dear,' said Mrs. Fordyce. 'I am going to leave
you in charge of Clara. When you know us better, you will find out that
it takes Mina all her time to take charge of herself.'

Mina shook her finger at her mother, and a slight blush rose to her
happy face.

'Too bad, mamma, to prejudice Miss Graham against me. The difference
between my sister and me,' she added, turning to Gladys, 'is that Clara
is always proper and conventional, and I am the reverse. You can never
catch her unawares or in an untidy gown, she is always just as
immaculate as you see her now; while I am--well, just as the spirit
moves me.' She swept a little mocking courtesy to her sister, who only
smiled and shook her head, then taking Gladys by the arm, led her from
the drawing-room.

'You must not mind Mina. She often speaks without thinking, but she
never wishes to hurt any one,' she said. 'We have both been so sorry for
you since papa told us about you, and we hope you will feel happy and at
home with us here.'

'Oh, I am sure I shall, you are all so kind,' cried Gladys impulsively.
It was natural that she should exaggerate any little courtesy or
kindness shown to her, she had known so little of it in her life.

'It is such a romance! To think you are an heiress, and that beautiful
Bourhill is all your own,' continued Clara.

'Do you know it?' interrupted Gladys, with more interest than she had
yet betrayed.

'Yes; I have been there. We have a house at Troon, and of course when we
are there we drive a good deal. Papa pointed it out to us one day, and
said it was sad to see it goi