mense responsibilities. Remember, my
child, that we all have to give an account with regard to our
individual talents some day."

Florence stirred restlessly and approached the window.

"I wonder where Mary is," she said, and just as she uttered the words
the silver gong in the hall sounded, and the three ladies hurried down
to luncheon.

Still no sign of Mary, but just as they were all wondering with regard
to her absence, the door was opened, and a girl, with a smudge on her
face and her hat pushed crooked on her head, entered the room. She
held her little sketch-book and came eagerly forward.

"Oh, I am sorry I am late," she said; "I hope I kept no one waiting. I
forgot all about it--it was that wonderful old oak-tree."

"What, the grenadier?" said Sir John, with a smile. "Have you been
sketching it, Miss Bateman?"

"I have been trying to, but it is awfully difficult."

"You must let me see your attempt."

He went up to Mary, took her sketch-book, opened it, and a smile of
pleasure flitted across his face as he saw the very clever and spirited
sketch which the girl had made.

"Ah!" he said, "I am delighted you like this sort of thing. Would you
like to take many views from my grounds?"

"Certainly--better than anything in the world almost," said Mary.

"Well, let me offer you my arm now into lunch. Ladies, will you follow
us, please?"

Florence's brow contracted with a frown. Mrs. Clavering took Kitty's
hand, motioned to Florence to follow, and they went into the
dining-room.

During the rest of the meal Sir John devoted himself to Mary; her
frank, commonplace face, her downright manners, her total absence of
all self-consciousness pleased him. He found her a truly intelligent
girl, and discovered in talking over her father that they knew some
mutual friends.

To Kitty he hardly spoke, although he glanced at her once or twice.
Florence seemed not to receive the most remote share of his attention.

"And yet," thought Florence to herself, "I am the only girl present
properly dressed for the occasion. Surely Sir John, a thorough
gentleman as he is, must notice that fact. I wonder what it can mean.
Why does he devote himself to Mary? Am I wrong from first to last? Do
girls who are real ladies think little or nothing about their dress?
Would Sir John have been more inclined to be pleasant to me if Aunt
Susan had never interfered?"

As these thoughts came to the restless and unhappy girl's