or
wealth or ambition.

Jack guessed what was passing in her mind. From his father he had
inherited a kind of womanish intuition. A pleasant-tempered man Bernard
Darcy had always been called, but it was that delicate tact, the
intuitive knowledge of what would be pleasant to others.

"What else can I do here, Sylvie?" Jack cried with sudden heat. "If the
chance ever comes, I shall be fitted for a good business man. You may
think there is no worthy ambition in that, but wait. Do not judge me too
hastily."

"I am impatient at times, I know; but it is because I see your
capabilities, and I can't bear to think of your going through the world
unappreciated."

"Do not worry about that. Good-night!" rather abruptly. "Miss Barry, I
have forgotten myself. Pleasant dreams!"

"And we did not have our old hymn, after all," said Sylvie regretfully.

Jack took the short cut across the garden. There was a dim light in the
sitting-room; and his mother lay in the hammock on the latticed porch,
her favorite evening resort. She came in now, and Jack bolted the doors.
Then, with a good-night kiss, he went to his room, and in ten minutes
was asleep. Sylvie, on the other hand, girl-like, tossed and tumbled.
Why was the world so queer and awry and obstinate? After all, you could
do so little with it. Your plans came to nought so easily. Lizzie Wise,
in her Sunday-school class, preferred going in the mill, and buying
herself cheap finery, because the other girls did it. And so all
through. You tried to train some one, and he or she followed the _ignis
fatuus_ more readily than any high, ennobling truth. It was hard lifting
people out of their old grooves.

How bright and entertaining Jack had been this evening! Of course Irene
had not remembered him. Would she be vexed, Sylvie wondered,--she who
held herself up so high, and believed in a separate world as it were?

CHAPTER IV.

THE garden-party was a success, and Miss Lawrence the acknowledged belle
of the evening. No one else could have carried off the peculiar style of
dress. She knew that she was radiant; and triumphs were a necessary
sweet incense, that she always kept alive on her shrine. There was no
need of making a hurried election: indeed, her chief aim now was
pleasure and conquest.

They were sitting over their dainty lunch, Mrs. Eastman having dropped
in; and, after the party had been pretty thoroughly discussed, a little
lull ensued. Fred toyed with some lusc