ead toward a chair. Peggy started, and
coloured violently.

"I beg your pardon!" she stammered. "Won't you sit down? here are two
chairs; and you and I can sit on the bed!" she turned to Miss Haughton
with an air of relief; she seemed already an old friend.

Peggy's timid glances at the newcomers showed her that they belonged to
a species unknown to her. Living on a great prairie farm, she had known
no girls save her sisters and the two cousins with whom she had spent a
happy summer at Fernley House, the home of her uncle, Mr. John Montfort,
a year before.

But neither sisters nor cousins, nor Bertha Haughton herself, bore any
resemblance to the two young women who now seated themselves on her two
straight-backed chairs. Both were dressed in the extreme of the fashion,
which was not a specially graceful one. Both wore their hair elaborately
dressed, with a profusion of gold and silver pins, a passing fancy
easily carried to extravagance. Both were pretty, and there was even a
kind of likeness between them, though it vanished when one looked
closely. Viola Vincent had limpid blue eyes, and long lashes which she
had a way of dropping, as she had been told that they looked well on her
cheek, which was clear and delicately tinted. She smiled a good deal,
and in doing so showed a pretty dimple in one cheek. In spite of a
certain affectation, Peggy thought her charming.

Vivia Varnham was less attractive, in spite of her bright hazel eyes
and pretty fluffy hair; there was a supercilious lift to her eyebrows,
an unamiable droop to the corners of her mouth. Peggy did not make this
analysis; she only thought, "I shall not like her, I know I sha'n't!"

The girls chattered away without much regard to her, and she only half
understood their talk.

"My dear! _Have_ you heard?" This was from Viola to Bertha Haughton. She
patted herself all over while she talked, now her hair, now her collar,
now her blouse, little approving pats.

"You never hear anything, you owls! When _is_ the Snowy coming back? She
has been away forty years! I simply can't exist without her. Why, my
dear, we are to have the straw-ride after all. Miss Russell says we may.
Isn't it perf'ly fine?"

"Are you sure?" said Bertha Haughton, doubtfully. "You know last time
she said we couldn't go again, because Grace acted so, pulling out the
linch-pin and dropping us all into the road."

"My dear, I know! that's just it! The Goat went to her this morning and
s