eed, more than Althea, whose
attitude towards her own native land had always been one of affectionate
apology.

'Nice creatures,' said Miss Buckston, 'undisciplined and mannerless as
they are; but that's a failing they share with our younger generation. I
see more hope for your country in that type than in anything else you
can show me. They are solid, and don't ape anything.'

So by degrees a species of friendship grew up between Miss Buckston and
the girls, who said that she was a jolly old thing, and more fun than a
goat, especially when she sang Bach. Mildred and Dorothy sang
exceptionally well and were highly equipped musicians.

Althea could not have said why it was, but this progress to friendliness
between her cousins and Miss Buckston made her feel, as she had felt in
the Paris hotel drawing-room over a month ago, jaded and unsuccessful.
So did the fact that the vicar's eldest son, a handsome young soldier
with a low forehead and' a loud laugh, fell in love with Dorothy. That
young men should fall in love with them was another of the pleasant
things that Mildred and Dorothy took for granted. Their love affairs,
frank and rather infantile, were of a very different calibre from the
earnest passions that Althea had aroused--passions usually initiated by
intellectual sympathy and nourished on introspection and a constant
interchange of serious literature.

It was soon evident that Dorothy, though she and Captain Merton became
the best of friends, had no intention of accepting him. Mrs. Merton, the
vicar's wife, had at first been afraid lest she should, not having then
ascertained what Mrs. Pepperell's fortune might be; but after satisfying
herself on this point by a direct cross-examination of Althea, she was
as much amazed as incensed when her boy told her ruefully that he had
been refused three times. Althea was very indignant when she realised
that Mrs. Merton, bland and determined in her latest London hat, was
trying to find out whether Dorothy was a good enough match for Captain
Merton, and it was pleasant to watch Mrs. Merton's subsequent
discomfiture. At the same time, she felt that to follow in Mildred and
Dorothy's triumphant wake was hardly what she had expected to do at
Merriston House.

Other things, too, were discouraging. Helen had hardly written at all.
She had sent a postcard from Scotland to say that she would have to put
off coming till later in August. She had sent another, in answer to a
l