m surprised at you!" said grandma. "Her tongue does run on a little
sometimes, but you ought to remember she's old enough to be your
mother, and girls do owe somethink to women with families."

"And women with families and homes ought to remember they owe
something to girls that aren't settled, because they haven't got a man
caught yet to keep them."

"Well, this ain't my quarrel, an' don't you bring it up to me again. A
woman that's rared a family, and two of them like I have done, has
enough with her own dissensions."

It was rather a sullen party at tea that evening, so Dawn's return
from Sydney immediately after, with her cheeks radiant from travel in
the quick evening express, and herself brimming over with her day's
adventures, formed a welcome relief.

"I had a great time coming home," said she. "Mr Ernest and Dora
Eweword both went to Sydney this morning, and Mr Ernest and I raced
into a carriage to escape Dora, and we did; and he must have asked the
guard, for he found our carriage, but he had only a second-class
ticket, and wouldn't be let in."

"And how came you to be in a first-class carriage?" inquired grandma.
"I can't stand that; there's expense enough as it is, and your betters
travel second."

"It wasn't my fault. Mr Ernest bought the tickets like a gentleman
should (it says in the etiquette book), and I couldn't fight with him
there and then,--you're always telling me to be more genteel."

"But I don't want strangers paying anything for my granddaughter."

"You needn't mind in this instance," I interposed.

"Mr Ernest probably wished to be gentlemanly to Dawn because she has
been so good to me." Once more I saw the little derisive smile flit
across the exquisite face, but she said--

"Yes; he said that you're looking so well it must be our nursing, and
that he will try and get grandma to take him in if he falls ill."

"I wonder if he's going to get took bad--love-sick--like the other
blokes," said Andrew.

Dawn cast a murderous glance at him, and covered the remark by making
a bustle in sitting to her tea, and in retailing minute details of her
singing lesson.

We retired early, and she produced from the basket in which she
carried her music a most pretentious box of sweets and various society
newspapers.

"Mr Ernest said you might like some of these, and I was to have a
share because I carried them home, though he got the 'bus and brought
me to the door, so I hadn't to walk a step."