ter of the house of Warren. As for any little jarring
notes in the decorative scheme of the Thornton abode, Mrs. Warren knew
that she could trust Nancy to change all that, if she were once
established there as the bride of Mr. James Thornton.

Now, Nancy had her share of the contrary spirit, and although she did
not look altogether unfavorably upon the wooing of the affluent James,
she took very good care that her mother should not suspect her state
of mind. Perhaps that one unforgettable summer, of which her mother
only dimly dreamed, made her despise herself for her tacit
acquiescence, and she salved her accusing conscience with some outward
show of opposition.

"Mr. Thornton is most kind, but his hands are positively beefy,
mother," complained Nancy, one day, her short upper lip curling a bit
scornfully. Mrs. Warren had just finished a long dissertation on the
virtues of Mr. James Thornton, and, merely incidentally, of course,
had touched on the great advantages that would accrue to the girl who
should become his wife.

"You _ought_ to know, my dear," Mrs. Warren replied, blandly, "that
the sun of South Africa has a _rather_"--Mrs. Warren's broad _a_ had a
supercilious cadence--"toughening effect on the skin. Hands or no hands,
he has more to recommend him than any man of _your_ acquaintance."
Mrs. Warren refrained from adding in what respect. "He is very much
taken with you. Let him slip through your fingers and he'll be snapped up
by some one else before you can say 'Jack Robinson.' Effie Paul"--Mrs.
Warren began counting the pining ones on her fingers--"would give her
old boots and shoes if she could annex him--she's a calculating
creature; I never liked her. Alice Wood needs only half a chance to
throw herself at his feet just as she already has done at his head.
_Her_ conduct has been disgraceful." Mrs. Warren sniffed the sniff of
the virtuous and blameless. "There's not a girl of your acquaintance
who would not jump at the chance of becoming Mrs. James Thornton."

"Did you ever read that story of Kipling's where he says, 'Regiments
are like women--they will do anything for trinketry'?" inquired Nancy,
calmly.

"Kipling may know a great deal about regiments, but he knows _nothing_
about women," said Mrs. Warren, severely. "I am surprised to hear a
girl of your age advocating any such idea! I have a higher opinion of
my sex, thank Heaven!" She assumed the air of an early Christian
martyr.

"Well, I think