and in Europe Amelie was seldom
disagreeable. In Europe, at the worst, she was gruff and ungracious, and
Althea was fond enough of her to ignore these failings, although they
frightened her a little; but though an easily intimidated person, and
much at a loss in meeting opposition or rudeness, she was also
tenacious. She might be frightened, but people could never make her do
what she didn't want to do, not even Amelie. Her relations with Amelie
were slightly strained just now, for she had not taken her advice as to
their return journey from Venice. Amelie had insisted on Mont Cenis, and
Althea had chosen the St. Gothard; so that it was as a measure of
propitiation that she selected three of the roses for Amelie as she went
into the bedroom. Amelie, who was kneeling before one of the larger
boxes and carefully lifting skirts from its trays, paused to sniff at
the flowers, and to express a terse thanks and admiration. 'Ah, bien
merci, mademoiselle,' she said, laying her share on the table beside
her.

She was not very encouraging about the condition of Althea's wardrobe.

'Elles sont defraichies--demodees--en verite, mademoiselle,' she
replied, when Althea asked if many new purchases were necessary.

Althea sighed. 'All the fittings!'

'Il faut souffrir pour etre belle,' said Amelie unsympathetically.

Althea had not dared yet to tell her that she might be going back to
America that winter. The thought of Amelie's gloom cast a shadow over
the project, and she could not yet quite face it. She wandered back to
the sitting-room, and, thinking of Amelie's last words, she stood for
some time and looked at herself in the large mirror which rose from
mantelpiece to cornice, enclosed in cascades of gilt. One of the things
that Althea, in her mild assurance, was really secure of--for, as we
have intimated, her assurance often covered a certain insecurity--was
her own appearance. She didn't know about 'belle,' that seemed rather a
trivial term, and the English equivalent better to express the
distinctive characteristic of her face. She had so often been told she
was nobly beautiful that she did not see herself critically, and she now
leaned her elbow on the mantelpiece and gazed at herself with sad
approbation. The mirror reflected only her head and shoulders, and Miss
Jakes's figure could not, even by a partisan, have been described as
beautiful; she was short, and though immature in outline, her form was
neither slender nor