favour. Still she
thought, "I should never think of influencing dear Bluebell one way or
the other, and we shall see which proposes first."

Jack's visit, as usual, was a lengthy one. His fair enslaver had
recovered her spirits, and no longer metaphorically turned her face to
the wall. She was glad of distraction, and not ungratified by his
allegiance, though without the slightest idea of returning it.

Like the boys and the frogs, she did not consider that what was sport to
the one was hard on the other, and probably would not have cared if it
had struck her; for, whatever poets may say, there is no more thoroughly
heartless age than sweet seventeen. When he sat on till the arrival of
the unappetizing meal they called a meat-tea, Bluebell did not wince at
her mother inviting him to join it, simply because his opinion was a
matter of indifference to her, though she carelessly recommended him not
to be late for mess.

Jack, however, with magnanimous disregard of that usually important
period of his day, stayed his healthy young appetite with the cold joint
from dinner; and he and Bluebell amused themselves frying eggs and
roasting chestnuts, which further assuaged its keen demands.

Many times during the evening did Mrs. Leigh leave the room, on the
principle that young people like to be alone together. But all her
tactics failed to uproot Miss Opie, who clung to her book and her seat
by the fire, partly from the contrary conviction that young persons
should _never_ be alone together, and partly because, save in the
kitchen, there was no other fire in the house.

"What shall we do?" cried Bluebell, with the faintest of yawns, tired
of consuming their culinary labours. "You don't care for music, I know.
There's an old chess-board somewhere; and I can't think of anything but
cat's-cradle, if you don't like that."

"I can play," said Jack, stoutly, who had not attempted it since his
childhood, but only wanted an excuse to remain on. So they sat down at
the spidery table, saying little; Jack quite well entertained with his
hand frequently coming in contact with Bluebell's on the board. He would
have liked to crush up that little member in his own, and meditated the
bold _coup_ more than once, but was always discouraged by that far away,
unconscious look in her eyes.

In this squalid parlour, where she was the only soft-hued thing in the
room, he thought her more beautiful than ever. Perhaps she was, for the
love-ligh