scrupulous
propriety, and wore a ceremonious and precise air which better
accorded with his position as master of the house. He talked well, and
asked me many questions about our life in Belfield, made inquiries
about George Lenox, and was interested when I told him about Georgina.
And about Georgina I found myself presently talking with a freedom
which amazed myself, for my habits were reserved, and of all that I
felt and thought about Georgy I had never yet said anything except
to my mother. But in this beautiful house, which seemed so fitting a
place for my lovely princess, and which was of late the object of her
dreams, I felt moved to be her ambassador and to plead her cause as
well as I might. I spoke not only of her beauty and her cleverness,
but of the drawbacks to her success in life. I anticipated criticism,
and disarmed it. "Oh, Helen!" I burst out at length, "you would love
her so dearly--I am sure you would!"

Helen's eyes were shining, and her color came and went. "Oh, grandpa,"
said she softly, "why may I not ask her to come here? Floyd will like
it, and I--"

She could not finish, she was so glad and excited, and she ran around
the table and laid her cheek against Mr. Raymond's shoulder in mute
entreaty.

"Oh, do whatever you please," rejoined the old gentleman impatiently:
"you know very well that you must have your own way in everything."

The glad little face fell at once, and she went back to her chair
slowly and climbed into it. It was a high-backed, crimson velvet
chair, with a footstool for the child's feet to rest upon. She looked
very slight and young as she sat there, her baby face thrown into
clear outline and startling pallor by the ruby-colored cushions. She
filled the place well, however, helping to the soup and fish, and even
the meats after Mills had carved them at the sideboard. I noticed too,
with some surprise, that the decanter of sherry stood at her elbow,
and was not passed, but that she herself poured out Mr. Raymond's
glass of wine, and once replenished it. He sent it to her to be filled
for the third time, but she shook her head.

"No, no, grandpa," she said with a queer little smile: "you have had
two already."

He looked angry, and affirmed that she had given him but one glass,
appealing to Mills, who corroborated the words of his young mistress.
Helen said no more, but gave the decanter to the butler, who took it
away, and I heard him lock the door of the wine-closet