plied Maggie. "Do you know," she
added, turning and fixing her curious eyes on her companion's face,
"that I am one of those poor girls who have never seen a beautiful
house like yours before."

"I am so glad you like our house," said Merry; "but you haven't seen
it yet."

"I am looking at it now. So this is what I am accustomed to hear
spoken of as one of the 'Homes of England'?"

"It certainly is a home," said Merry, "and an old one, too. Parts of
the Manor have been centuries in existence, but some parts, of course,
are comparatively new."

"Will you take me all over it, Miss Cardew?" asked Maggie.

"Indeed, I shall be delighted; but you must come another day for
that, for we want to make up some sets of tennis without any delay. We
have all our afternoon planned out. There are three or four young
people who may arrive any moment, so that we shall be able to make two
good sets."

"How wonderful it all is!" said Maggie, who kept on looking at the
house with ever-increasing admiration, and did not seem particularly
keen about tennis.

"Don't you like tennis, Miss--Miss Howland?" said Merry.

"Oh yes," replied Maggie after a pause; "but then I think," she added,
after yet another pause, "that I like every nice thing in all the
world."

"How delightful that must be!" said Merry, becoming more and more
attracted by Maggie each moment. "And you know a lot, too, don't you?
For you have seen so much of the world."

"I know very little," replied Maggie; "and as to having seen the
world, that is to come. I am quite young, you know--only just
sixteen."

"But Isabel and Molly told me that you knew more than any other girl
of their acquaintance."

Maggie gave a cheerful laugh, and said, "You mustn't mind what they
say, poor darlings! The fact is, they're fond of me, and they magnify
my knowledge; but in reality it doesn't exist. Only, I must tell you,
Miss Cardew, I mean to see everything, and to know everything. I mean
to have a glorious future."

The enthusiasm in the charming voice was also seen, to shine through
those queer, narrow eyes. Merry felt her heart beat. "I am going to
tell you something in return," she said, speaking, for a wonder,
without diffidence, for she was naturally very shy and retiring. "I
wish with all my heart that I could live a glorious life such as you
describe."

"And surely you can?" said Maggie.

"No, I must be satisfied with a very quiet life. But we won't talk of
it now. I