go walks with Ti--with Flora Timson when she has time."

Aunt Beatrice looked at the matter judicially.

"Of course, games are best for the physique. Look at men. Still, walking
will do, if one takes proper walks. I hope Flora Timson takes you good
long walks."

"Indeed she does!" cried Milly. "Immense! She walks a dreadful pace, and
we get over stiles and things."

"Immense is a little vague. How far do you go on an average?"

Mildred's notions of distance were vague. "Quite two miles, I'm sure,"
she responded, cheerfully.

Aunt Beatrice made no comment. She looked steadily and scrutinizingly
at her niece, and in a kind but deepened voice told her to go up to her
room, whither she, Lady Thomson, would follow in a few minutes, just to
see how the Mantegnas looked now they were framed.

As soon as the door had closed behind Mildred, she turned to Miss Burt.
"You're right, in a way, Polly, after all. There is something odd about
Milly, but I think it's affectation. Did you hear her answer? Two miles!
When to my knowledge she can easily walk ten."

Meantime, Mildred mounted slowly to her room. She had tidied it under
Tims's instructions and had nothing to do but to sit down and think
until Lady Thomson's masculine step was heard outside her door.

Aunt Beatrice came in and laid aside her hat and cloak, showing a dress
of rough gray tweed, and short--so far a tribute to the practical--but
otherwise made on some awkward artistic or hygienic principle. Her
glossy brown hair was brushed back and twisted tight, as Milly's used to
be, but with different effect, because of its heaviness and length.

"Why have you crammed up one of your windows with a dressing-glass?"
asked Aunt Beatrice, putting a picture straight.

"Because I can't see myself in that dark corner," returned Mildred,
demurely meek, but waiting her opportunity.

"See yourself! My dear child, you hardly ever want to see yourself, if
you are habitually neat and dressed sensibly. I see you've adopted the
mannish style. That's a phase of vanity. You'll come back to the
beautiful and natural before long."

Mildred leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head.

"I don't think so, Aunt Beatrice. I've settled the dress question once
and for all. I've found a clean, tidy, convenient style of dress and I
can't waste time thinking about altering it again."

"You don't seem to mind wasting it on doing your hair," returned Aunt
Beatrice, smi