Oh!
there are consolations, depend upon it, in a well-sustained reputation
for folly!"

The laugh jarred on Richard. He decided that he did not quite like his
aunt Charlotte Ormiston. All the same he wished the charming, little
girl would come to him.

"But to return. It's a waste. To some poor family it might have been a
perfect fortune. And I hate waste. Perhaps you have never discovered
that?"

Ormiston let his glance rest on the somewhat showy figure.

"I doubt if William has discovered it either," he remarked.

"Oh! as to your poor brother William, heaven only knows what he has or
has not discovered!--Now, Helen, this conversation becomes undesirable.
You've asked innumerable questions about your cousin. Go and make
acquaintance with him. I'm the best of mothers of course, but, at
times, I really can do quite well without you."

Now surely this was a day of good fortune, for again Dickie had his
desire. And a most surprisingly pretty, little desire it
proved--seductive even, deliciously finished in person and in manner.
The boy gazed at the girl's small hands and small, daintily shod feet,
at the small, lovely, pink and white face set in a cloud of
golden-brown hair, at the innocent, blue eyes, at the mouth with
upturned corners to it. Richard was not of age to remark the eyes were
rather light in colour, the lips rather thin. The exquisite refinement
of the girl's whole person delighted him. She was delicate as a
miniature, as a figure carved in ivory. She was like his Uncle Roger,
when she was silent and still. She was like--oh, poor Dick!--some
bright glancing, small, saucy bird when she spoke and her voice had
those clear, flute tones in it.

"Since you did not come to me, I had to come to you," she said. "I have
wanted so much to see you. I had heard about you at home, in Paris."

"Heard about me?" Dickie repeated, flattered and surprised. "But won't
you sit down. Look--that little chair. I can reach it."

And leaning sideways he stretched out his hand. But his finger-tips
barely touched the top rail. Richard flushed. "I'm awfully sorry," he
said, "but I am afraid--it isn't heavy--I must let you get it
yourself."

The girl, who had watched him intently, her hands clasped, gave a
little sigh. Then the corners of her mouth turned up as she smiled. A
delightful dimple showed in her right cheek.

"But, of course," she replied, "I will get it."

She settled herself beside him, folded her hands, cros