e, Eunice, you have often been told
that you have a good figure, and that you walk well?"

I said: "Helena thinks my figure is better than my face. But do I really
walk well? Nobody ever told me that."

She answered: "Philip Dunboyne thinks so. He said to me, 'I resist the
temptation because I might be wanting in respect if I gave way to
it. But I should like to follow her when she goes out--merely for the
pleasure of seeing her walk.'"

I stood stockstill. I said nothing. When you are as proud as a peacock
(which never happened to me before), I find you can't move and can't
talk. You can only enjoy yourself.

Kind Mrs. Staveley had more things to tell me. She said: "I am
interested in Philip. I lived near Fairmount in the time before I
was married; and in those days he was a child. I want him to marry a
charming girl, and be happy."

What made me think directly of Miss Staveley? What made me mad to know
if she was the charming girl? I was bold enough to ask the question.
Mrs. Staveley turned to me with that mischievous look which I have
noticed already. I felt as if I had been running at the top of my speed,
and had not got my breath again, yet.

But this good motherly friend set me at my ease. She explained herself:
"Philip is not much liked, poor fellow, in our house. My husband
considers him to be weak and vain and fickle. And my daughter agrees
with her father. There are times when she is barely civil to Philip. He
is too good-natured to complain, but _I_ see it. Tell me, my dear, do
you like Philip?"

"Of course I do!" Out it came in those words, before I could stop it.
Was there something unbecoming to a young lady in saying what I had just
said? Mrs. Staveley seemed to be more amused than angry with me. She
took my arm kindly, and led me along with her. "My dear, you are as
clear as crystal, and as true as steel. You are a favorite of mine
already."

What a delightful woman! as I said just now. I asked if she really liked
me as well as she liked my sister.

She said: "Better."

I didn't expect that, and didn't want it. Helena is my superior. She is
prettier than I am, cleverer than I am, better worth liking than I am.
Mrs. Staveley shifted the talk back to Philip. I ought to have said Mr.
Philip. No, I won't; I shall call him Philip. If I had a heart of stone,
I should feel interested in him, after what Mrs. Staveley has told me.

Such a sad story, in some respects. Mother dead; no brothers or sist