y too glad to have you speak to him on any
subject, and I put him into such a fume about your appearance, Jack! Of
course, I intended no harm, the words came out somehow. You remember,
last night, his showing me an engraving he had bought. 'Tell me some one
that is like,' he said to me. It was the least in the world like you, or
like your mode of dressing your hair, but it flattered you, as these
chance likenesses always do. 'Is it a little like Joanna?' I asked
trying him; and I continued, 'Our Joanna would be rather a pretty girl
if it were not for the blemish;' and there I stopped short, for I
recollected that I should not have mentioned it to him. I wish you had
seen him, how hot and haughty he was, as if you were not my own sister,
and as if I had not more business with you than he had yet. 'I wonder
how any one who has any regard for Joanna can term that mark a defect:
it is very sacred and beautiful, otherwise Joanna is without spot'--and
there he caught himself and turned away--he was about to add, 'or
wrinkle or any such thing,' and I am afraid it was a quotation from the
Bible; but I fancy he felt that he was making a fool of himself, and
held his tongue. We ought to speak of going home."

"Susie, dear, don't be unreasonable; you know what a claim this family
has upon ours; you know what papa desires."

"I know nothing except that Harry Jardine wants me out of his way, and
you in his way. It is very disagreeable to me, and a great
responsibility to me. You are an interested party, you cannot be
expected to see things as you should."

"Why not? I told you to correct him when he was wrong. But I thought you
were great friends; and poor Mrs. Jardine, Susan, I can be of use to her
in her adversity. I can do things for her as I do for--"

"As you do for papa; there is a fine confession!"

Joanna ensconced herself in silence. Susan had provocation, but Joanna
took great care next day not to support Harry Jardine in his levity and
discontent. All the morning she spent with Mrs. Jardine; she pinned
herself to her sleeve until, after luncheon, she was taken by the old
lady into her own room, with its bright fire and shining dogs, its
broad, easy couch, its table, with the handsome ponderous writing-desk,
flanking the handsome heavy dressing-case, and its look-out from the
warmly-curtained windows quite across the moor.

"What a comfortable room, Mrs. Jardine!" Joanna could not help
exclaiming; "I never saw a more