wide red lips, and her untameable vivacity,
made her appear like a wild bird alighting
on the steps of that still, lazy, gentlemanlike
house.

For the first two days Violet behaved
herself with perfect propriety. She embroidered
more than two square inches of Berlin work,
and did not make a single allusion to the
stables. She fell asleep only twice when
Launcelot condescended to read aloud the mistiest
parts of Queen Mab, and she tried hard to look
as if she understood what Epipsychidion was
all about. Poor little woman! she knew as
much about either as if cousin Launce, as she
called him, had informed her in the native
dialect of the glories of the Anax Andrôn, or
as if he had told her how arms and the man
were sung at Mantua long ago. But this
state of things could not last long. Old habits
and old instincts entered their protest, and
Violet Tudor felt that she must be natural
or she would die. Launcelot said that she
was noisy, and made his head ache; and he
changed his resting-place for one farther off
from the house, complaining of Miss Tudor's
voice; which he declared was like a bird's
whistle, that penetrated into his brain. This
he said to his mother languidly, at the
same time asking when she was going away
again.

"You don't keep horses. Cousin Launce?"
Violet said on the third morning at breakfast,
raising her eyelids and fixing her eyes for an
instant on him.

"Not for ladies. Miss Tudor," said
Launcelot.

"Why do you call me Miss Tudor!" she
asked again, "I am your own cousin. It is
very rude of you!"

"I should think myself very impertinent if
I called you by any other name," returned
Launcelot still more coldly.

"How odd! Aunt, why is Cousin Launce
so strange?"

"I don't know what you mean, Violet,"
said Mrs. Chumley, a little sternly; "I
think you are strange—not my son!"

An answer that steadied the eyes for
some time; for Violet looked down, feeling
rebuked, and wondering how she had
deserved rebuke. A moment after, Ella asked
Launcelot for something in her gentle, quiet,
unintoned voice, as if they had been strangers,
and had met for the first time that day. It
was a striking contrast; not unnoticed by
Chumley, who was inwardly thankful that such
a quiet wife had been chosen him; adding a
grace of thanks for having escaped Violet
Tudor. After breakfast he strolled, as usual,
into the garden, Mrs. Chumley going about
her household concerns; Violet went to the
door, turning round for Ella.

"Come with me, Elly, darling," she said;
"let us go and teaze Launce. It is really too
stupid here!—I can't endure it much longer.
I want to see what that lazy fellow is really
made of. / am not engaged to him, so I am
not afraid of him. Come!" And with one
spring down the whole flight, she dashed
upon the lawn like a flash of light. Ella
descended like a well bred lady; but Violet
skipped, and ran, and jumped, and once she
hopped—until she found herself by
Launcelot's side, as he lay on the grass, darting
in between him and the sun like a humming
bird.

"Cousin Launce, how lazy you are!" were
her first words. "Why don't you do
something to amuse us? You take no more notice
of Ella than if she were a stranger, and you
are not even ordinarily polite to me. It is
really dreadful! What will you be when you
are a man, if you are so idle and selfish now?
There will be no living with you in a few
years; for I am sure you are almost
insupportable as you are!"

Launcelot had not been accustomed to this
style of address; and, for the first few
moments, was completely at fault. Ella
looked frightened. She touched Violet, and
whispered, "Don't hurt his feelings!" as if
he had been a baby, and Violet an assassin.

"And what am I to do to please Miss
Tudor?" Launcelot asked with an impertinent
voice; "what herculean exertion must I go
through to win favour in the eyes of my
strong, brave, manly cousin?"

"Be a man yourself, Cousin Launce,"
answered Violet; "don't spend all your time
dawdling over stupid poetry, which I am
sure you don't understand. Take exercise—
good strong exercise. Ride, hunt, shoot, take
interest in something and in some one, and
don't think yourself too good for everybody's
society but your own. You give up your
happiness for pride, I am sure you do; yet
you are perfectly unconscious of how ridiculous
you make yourself."

"You are severe, Miss Tudor," said
Launcelot, with his face crimson. Violet was so
small and so frank, he could not be angry
with her.

"I tell you the truth," she persisted, "and
you don't often hear the truth. Better for you
if you did. You must not let it be a quarrel
between us; for I speak only for your own
good; and, if you will only condescend to be
a little more like other men I will never
say a word to you again. Let us go to the
stables. I want to see your horses. You
have horses?"

"Yes," said Launcelot; "but, as I
remarked at breakfast, not ladies' horses."

"I don't care for ladies' horses: men's
horses will suit me better!" said Violet, with
a toss of her little head that was charming
in its assertion of equality. "I would undertake
to ride horses, Cousin Launce, you
dare not mount; for I am sure you cannot
be good at riding, lying on the grass all your
life!"

Launcelot was excessively piqued. His
blood made his face tingle, his brows
contracted, and he felt humbled and annoyed;