there looking out
upon the sunny landscape, but seeing nothing.

"Barbara! you are crying," says Joyce, going up to her abruptly, and
folding her arms round her.

"It is nothing, dear. Nothing at all, darling. Only--I wish he and his
father were friends again. Freddy is too good a man not to regret the
estrangement."

"I believe you think Freddy is a little god!" says Joyce laughing.

"O! not a _little_ one," says Mrs. Monkton, and as Freddy stands six
foot one in his socks, they both laugh at this.

"Still you don't answer me," says the girl presently. "You don't say
'you may' or 'you shan't'--which is it to be, Barbara?"

Her tone is distinctly coaxing now, and as she speaks she gives her
sister a little squeeze that is plainly meant to press the desired
permission out of her.

Still Mrs. Monkton hesitates.

"You see," says she temporizing, "there are so many reasons. The Court,"
pausing and flushing, "is not _quite_ the house for so young a girl as
you."

"Oh Barbara!"

"You can't misunderstand me," says her sister with agitation. "You know
how I like, _love_ Lady Baltimore, and how good Lord Baltimore has been
to Freddy. When his father cast him off there was very little left to us
for beginning housekeeping with, and when Lord Baltimore gave him his
agency--Oh, _well_! it isn't likely we shall either of us forget to be
grateful for _that_. If it was only for ourselves I should say nothing,
but it is for you, dear; and--this unfortunate affair--this determined
hostility that exists between Lord and Lady Baltimore, makes it
unpleasant for the guests. You know," nervously, "I hate gossip of any
sort, but one must defend one's own."

"But there is nothing unpleasant; one sees nothing. They are charming to
each other. I have been staying there and I know."

"Have I not stayed there too? It is impossible Joyce to fight against
facts. All the world knows they are not on good terms."

"Well, a great many other people aren't perhaps."

"When they aren't the tone of the house gets lowered. And I have noticed
of late that they have people there, who----"

"Who what, Barbara?"

"Oh yes, I _know_ they are all right; they are received everywhere, but
are they good companions for a girl of your years? It is not a healthy
atmosphere for you. They are rich people who think less of a hundred
guineas than you do of five. Is it wise, I ask you again to accustom
yourself to their ways?"

"Nonsense, Barbara!" says