r wee goose?"

The fair head turned round, and the book dropped to the floor.

"I'm thinking," said a very sweet, sad little voice, "I'm thinking that
I wish I were a large family, mother. I'm so tired of being only one!"

"Oh, Cynthia!" cried the lady--and there was a world of mother-yearning
in her voice--"is it that old trouble again? Poor child, it is dull for
you, but I do all I can for you, darling. I stayed at home especially
to be near you, and I do my best to be a companion, and to sympathise in
all your interests. Don't tell me that I have failed altogether!"

Cynthia crossed the room, knelt down on the floor by her mother's couch
and laid both hands on her knee. The two faces that confronted each
other were as much alike as was possible, given a difference in age of
twenty-five years. Cynthia was a beautiful girl, and her mother was a
beautiful woman, and the beauty lay as much in expression as in feature.
Miles Trevor had been entirely mistaken when he compared the girl to a
doll, for the direct glance of the eye, the sweet, firm lips and well-
formed chin, belonged to no puppet, but showed unusual strength of
character.

"You are a darling, and I adore you!" cried Cynthia fondly. "But you
are old, you know, and I am so dreadfully young. There's something all
fizzling inside me for want of a vent. I'm just desperate sometimes to
do something wild, and exciting, and hilarious; it doesn't matter how
silly it is; the sillier the better! I'm so dreadfully well-regulated,
mother, considering I'm only sixteen. Lessons--`studies,' as Miss Mason
calls them--musical exercises, constitutional, luncheon, more studies,
dinner, polite conversation, performances upon the piano, that's my
daily round, and I get _so_ tired! Don't think I don't appreciate you,
mother. You know I do. We are the best friends in the world, but
still--"

"I know," said Mrs Alliot, and sighed once more. She stroked her
daughter's golden head in thoughtful silence, then asked curiously,
"What made you feel your loneliness especially to-day, dear?"

A flicker of laughter passed over Cynthia's pink-and-white face.

"The boy and girl in Number 1, the corner house, were playing tricks on
me, trying to dazzle my eyes with something--a piece of old looking-
glass, I suppose. I could not understand what caused the sudden glare
until I caught a glimpse of their faces peering out from behind the
curtains."

"Trying to dazzle you!