and turning to Lady Jane, she described
the scene with great minuteness of detail. "It was really too
ridiculous, to see her standing there waving her handkerchief with her
head bare to show her abundant hair, and that old linen gown, which must
have seen some years' service. I was intensely mortified to have our
friends see her, and so was Neil."

"I beg your pardon, I was not mortified at all; I liked it, and I do not
care who saw her," Neil said, rousing up in defense of Bessie, and lying
easily and fluently, for Blanche's cruel remarks made him very angry.

"Oh, you did like it, then? Your face told a different story," Blanche
retorted; while Lady Jane, forgetting her dignity, commenced a tirade
against both Bessie and her mother, the latter of whom she cordially
despised. Of the girl she knew nothing, she said, but it was fair to
suppose she was like her mother, and she did not blame Blanche for
feeling shocked at such unmaidenly advances in public to a young man.

Had Neil been a few years younger he would have called his mother a
fool, as he had done more than once in his boyhood; but he could not do
that now, and turning to Jack, who had been quietly eating his dinner,
he said:

"Jack, what did you think of Bessie? Is she a bold hussy, and ought
Blanche to smash her red parasol because Bessie's eyes have rested upon
it?"

Thus appealed to, Jack looked up, with an amused smile on his face, and
said:

"I don't quite believe Bessie's eyes did rest on Blanche's parasol. I
thought they were on you, and envied you as a lucky dog. Seriously,
though," he continued, as he saw the thunderous gleam in Neil's eyes,
and the look of triumph in Blanche's, "it did not occur to me that there
was anything bold or unmaidenly in what the young lady did, and I never
saw a more beautiful tableau than she made, standing there in the
sunshine, with her bright, wavy hair, and her lovely, eager face. She is
very beautiful, and I am so glad I have seen her. They are stopping
at--" He hesitated, and looked at Neil, who, grateful for his defense of
Bessie, unhesitatingly replied:

"No. ---- Abingdon road, near High street"

"Thank you," Jack said, making a mental memorandum of the place, with a
view to call, even if Bessie had said he better not.

After this little skirmish the dinner proceeded in peace, so far as
Bessie was concerned, for Jack Trevellian was a kind of oracle, whose
verdict could raise one to the pinnacle of pub