n of keen intelligence that
children do not wear, and sometimes smiled to herself, as if she saw or
heard something that pleased and interested her. When they rose from
table she followed Prue up stairs, quite forgetting the disarray in
which the drawing-room was left. The gentlemen took possession before
either sister returned, and Mark's annoyance found vent in a philippic
against oddities in general and Sylvia in particular; but his father and
friend sat in the cushionless chairs, and pronounced the scene amusingly
novel. Prue appeared in the midst of the laugh, and having discovered
other delinquencies above, her patience was exhausted, and her regrets
found no check in the presence of so old a friend as Moor.

"Something must be done about that child, father, for she is getting
entirely beyond my control. If I attempt to make her study she writes
poetry instead of her exercises, draws caricatures instead of sketching
properly, and bewilders her music teacher by asking questions about
Beethoven and Mendelssohn, as if they were personal friends of his. If I
beg her to take exercise, she rides like an Amazon all over the Island,
grubs in the garden as if for her living, or goes paddling about the bay
till I'm distracted lest the tide should carry her out to sea. She is so
wanting in moderation she gets ill, and when I give her proper medicines
she flings them out of the window, and threatens to send that worthy,
Dr. Baum, after them. Yet she must need something to set her right, for
she is either overflowing with unnatural spirits or melancholy enough
to break one's heart."

"What have you done with the little black sheep of my flock,--not
banished her, I hope?" said Mr. Yule, placidly, ignoring all complaints.

"She is in the garden, attending to some of her disagreeable pets, I
fancy. If you are going out there to smoke, please send her in, Mark; I
want her."

As Mr. Yule was evidently yearning for his after-dinner nap, and Mark
for his cigar, Moor followed his friend, and they stepped through the
window into the garden, now lovely with the fading glow of summer
sunset.

"You must know that this peculiar little sister of mine clings to some
of her childish beliefs and pleasures in spite of Prue's preaching and
my raillery," began Mark, after a refreshing whiff or two. "She is
overflowing with love and good will, but being too shy or too proud to
offer it to her fellow-creatures, she expends it upon the necessit