ith a deep sigh, "how could I help it?
Mamma was behind me, and kept pushing me with her elbow. Mamma is
sometimes very ill-bred." And another sigh burst from the overcharged
heart of the sentimental fair one.

"Well," rejoined her sister, "I don't know why she so terribly
dislikes poor Staunton; but to say the truth, our gallopade lost
nothing by his absence. He is as stiff as a Dutch doll when he
dances. Even our Louisianian backwoodsman here, acquits himself much
more creditably."

And the malicious girl gave me such an arch look, that I could not be
angry with the equivocal sort of compliment paid to myself.

"That is very unkind, Arthurine," said Margaret, her checks glowing
with anger at this attack upon the graces of her admirer.

"Don't be angry, sister," cried Arthurine, running up to her,
throwing her arms round her neck, and kissing and soothing her till
she began to smile. They formed a pretty group. Arthurine especially,
as she skipped up to her sister, scarce touching the carpet with her
tiny feet, looked like a fairy or a nymph. She was certainly a lovely
creature, slender and flexible as a reed, with a waist one could
easily have spanned with one's ten fingers; feet and hands on the
very smallest scale, and of the most beautiful mould; features
exquisitely regular; a complexion of lilies and roses; a small
graceful head, adorned with a profusion of golden hair; and then
large round clear blue eyes, full of mischief and fascination. She
was, as the French say, _a croquer_.

"Heigho!" sighed the sentimental Margaret. "To think of this vulgar,
selfish man intruding himself between me and such a noble creature as
Staunton! It is really heart-breaking."

"Not quite so bad as that!" said Arthurine. "Moreland, as you know,
has a good five hundred thousand dollars; and Staunton has nothing,
or at most a couple of thousand dollars a-year--a mere feather in the
balance against such a golden weight."

"Love despises gold," murmured Margaret.

"Nonsense!" replied her sister; "I would not even despise silver, if
it were in sufficient quantity. Only think of the balls and parties,
the fetes and pic-nics! Saratoga in the summer--perhaps even London
or Paris! The mere thought of it makes my mouth water."

"Talk not of such joys, to be bought at such a price!" cried
Margaret, quoting probably from some of her favourite novels.

"Well, don't make yourself unhappy now," said Arthurine. "Moreland
will not be he