she says, raising herself
on her elbow; "don't deny it. Was it with Marcia or Tedcastle?"

"Tedcastle," Molly replies, laughing against her will at the other's
shrewdness, and in consequence wiping away a few tears directly
afterward. "It is nothing; but he is really intolerably jealous, and I
can't and won't put up with it."

"Oh, that some one was jealous about me!" says Cecil, with a prolonged
sigh. "Go on."

"It was nothing, I tell you. All because Philip kindly picked a little
bit of dust out of my eye."

"How good of Philip! considering all the dust you have thrown into his
of late. And Ted objected?"

"Yes, and was very rude into the bargain. I wouldn't have believed it
of him."

"Well, you know yourself you have been going on anyhow with Philip
during the past few days."

"Oh, Cecil, how can you say so? Am I to turn my back on him when he
comes to speak to me? And even supposing I had flirted egregiously with
him (which is not the case), is that a reason why one is to be scolded
and abused and have all sorts of the most dreadful things said to one?"
(I leave my readers to deplore the glaring exaggeration of this
speech.) "He looked, too, as if he could have eaten me then and there.
I know this, I shan't forgive him in a hurry."

"Poor Ted! I expect he doesn't have much of a time with you," says
Cecil, shaking her head.

"Are you laughing at me?" cries Molly, wrathfully. "Then make ready for
death." And, taking the smaller Cecil in her arms, she most unkindly
lifts her from among her cozy cushions and deposits her upon the floor.
"There! Now will you repent? But come, Cecil, get up, and prepare for
your husband's reception. I will be your maid to-night, if you will let
me. What will you wear?"

"Pale blue. It suits me best. See, that is my dress." Pointing to a
light-blue silk, trimmed with white lace, that lies upon the bed. "Will
you really help me to dress? But you cannot do my hair?"

"Try me."

She does try, and proves so highly satisfactory that Cecil is tempted
to offer splendid wages if she will consent to come and live with her.

The hair is a marvel of artistic softness. Every fresh jewel lends a
grace; and when at length Cecil is attired in her blue gown, she is all
that any one could possibly desire.

"Now, honestly, how do I look?" she asks, turning round to face Molly.
"Anything like a housemaid?" With a faint laugh that has something
tremulous about it.

"I never saw you half s