Mabel, however, took the satins and velvets
with perfect composure, and welcomed Mrs.
Charlewood and Penelope in a thoroughly
unembarrassed manner.

"What is this I 'ear, my dear? Your 'usband
is out? We came expecting to find him ill in
bed," said Mrs. Charlewood, panting into the
room with a languishing air that five-and-
twenty years ago had seemed to indicate fragile
delicacy, but which now rather suggested
apoplexy.

"Thank you very much for coming, dear
Mrs. Charlewood. I'm glad to say Benjamin
is wonderfully better in fact, almost well. He
persisted that he would take a cab and drive
down to the office to-day. I'm afraid it's rather
soon; but he was well wrapped up. Do take
the sofa; and, Mabel, give Mrs. Charlewood
that footstool."

Dooley, who had been standing with his
small fist as far inside his mouth as
circumstances would permit, and his brow drawn
into a contemplative frown closely observing
the visitors, now appeared to think it time
that the general attention should be diverted
in his direction, and, advancing to Penelope,
said, gravely, " Do 'oo want to know how I
do?"

"Very much indeed, Dooley. It's the thing
I want to know more particularly than
anything else."

Dooley surveyed her thoughtfully for a
moment, and then asked, " Why?"

"Because I'm uncommonly fond of you,
Dooley. You're my little sweetheart, ain't
you?'j

"No. I ain't fond of ’oo," returned Dooley,
with uncompromising frankness.

"Yon rude little boy!" said his mother.
"I'm ashamed of you."

"For goodness' sake don't scold him, Mrs.
Saxelby," returned Penelope, who was no
whit offended by Dopley's candour. " It is
so wonderfully refreshing to hear anything one
can thoroughly believe. Mabel, would you mind
letting me look at your ferns? I'm so stupid
or so impatient that mine all die, and I won't
hear of letting the gardener touch them."

"You can see what I have; but they are
poor enough. Why not let the gardener attend
to them, Miss Charlewood?"

"Why not? You're as bad as Dooley.
Because, if you must know, they'd begin to thrive
under his auspices, and thereby prove my treatment
to have been wrong; and I never allow
any one to prove me to be wrong."

Mabel and Miss Charlewood walked together
to a little glass house at the bottom of the
garden, where Mabel had a few plants; the
stiff silk cord round the hem of Miss Charlewood's
dress swept over the daisies ruthlessly.

''What a lucky creature you are, not to have
grown-up brothers!" said Penelope, suddenly,
when the ferns had been examined.

"Am I? I hope I shall have a grown up
brother some day, bless him!"

"Oh yes; but by that time you'll be out of
his reach. He won't be able to bully you.
Your husband will have taken that department."

Mabel laughed. " Well," she said, with an
arch glance, "I don't think you have much
reason to talk of grown-up brothers bullying
you."

"I? No; because I don't let any one bully
me. I do that myself. But then, you know, I
am a Tartar. Now, short of making up their
minds to be Tartars, which is not altogether an
easy line in life, girls do get bullied by their
grown-up brothers. Watty and Augusta had
quite a pitched battle the other day about Jane
Fluke; papa took Watty's side, and Augusta
was reduced to tears—always her last resort."

"About Jane Fluke?" said Mabel, rather
surprised at Miss Charlewood's confidence.

"Yes; Jane Fluke is Augusta's latest craze,
and Watty hates her. He accused her of
coming to the Manor to set her cap at Clement,
which is preposterous."

Any one to have heard the frank peal of
laughter with which Mabel greeted this
announcement, would have been quite satisfied
as to her being fancy-free with respect to
Clement Charlewood.

"What nonsense!" cried she. " Poor Jane!
I'm sure she has no idea of such a thing. It
is too bad of Walter to be so censorious."

"As to having no idea of such a thing,"
replied Penelope, dryly, " one can never tell. I
should not be apt to accuse Jane Fluke of ideas,
in a general way, myself. But, really, girls who
are husband-hunting—however, papa made
himself a little angry at the suggestion. You
know papa is naturally ambitious for Clement."

"I don't suppose he need alarm himself in
this case," said Mabel. She felt constrained and
uncomfortable; she knew not why. Miss Charlewood's
tone was unusual, and Mabel had a
dim consciousness of some unexpressed meaning
lurking under her words.

"No, of course not. Jane Fluke is out of
the question. But Clem is a good parti, and
there are prettier and brighter girls than Jane
Fluke in the world, who might think it worth
while to try for him. And then men are such
fools! If a woman tickles their vanity, she may
do almost anything with them."

"Mr. Charlewood should have some means
taken of warning off the young ladies from his
son, as they warn off poachers," said Mabel, with
quiet disdain. And then the two girls walked
side by side silently into the house.

"Why, I thought you had run away with
Penelope, Mabel!" said Mrs. Charlewood, when
they re-entered the sitting-room.

"No, Mrs. Charlewood, I will not run away
with anything belonging to you," said Mabel.

And Penelope then understood that she had
succeeded in her mission.

"I thought Mabel spoke a little short just now,
Penny," said Mrs. Charlewood, when they were
seated in the carriage on their homeward way.

"Upon my word, she is a first-rate girl, is