stupid one. Besides, Lord Lambeth
is not stupid."

"Not so stupid as he looks!" exclaimed her sister, smiling.

"If I were in love with Lord Lambeth, as you said just now, it would be
bad policy on your part to abuse him."

"My dear child, don't give me lessons in policy!" cried Mrs. Westgate.
"The policy I mean to follow is very deep."

The young girl began to walk about the room again; then she stopped
before her sister. "I have never heard in the course of five minutes,"
she said, "so many hints and innuendoes. I wish you would tell me in
plain English what you mean."

"I mean that you may be much annoyed."

"That is still only a hint," said Bessie.

Her sister looked at her, hesitating an instant. "It will be said of you
that you have come after Lord Lambeth--that you followed him."

Bessie Alden threw back her pretty head like a startled hind, and a look
flashed into her face that made Mrs. Westgate rise from her chair. "Who
says such things as that?" she demanded.

"People here."

"I don't believe it," said Bessie.

"You have a very convenient faculty of doubt. But my policy will be, as
I say, very deep. I shall leave you to find out this kind of thing for
yourself."

Bessie fixed her eyes upon her sister, and Mrs. Westgate thought for
a moment there were tears in them. "Do they talk that way here?" she
asked.

"You will see. I shall leave you alone."

"Don't leave me alone," said Bessie Alden. "Take me away."

"No; I want to see what you make of it," her sister continued.

"I don't understand."

"You will understand after Lord Lambeth has come," said Mrs. Westgate
with a little laugh.

The two ladies had arranged that on this afternoon Willie Woodley should
go with them to Hyde Park, where Bessie Alden expected to derive much
entertainment from sitting on a little green chair, under the great
trees, beside Rotten Row. The want of a suitable escort had hitherto
rendered this pleasure inaccessible; but no escort now, for such an
expedition, could have been more suitable than their devoted young
countryman, whose mission in life, it might almost be said, was to find
chairs for ladies, and who appeared on the stroke of half-past five with
a white camellia in his buttonhole.

"I have written to Lord Lambeth, my dear," said Mrs. Westgate to her
sister, on coming into the room where Bessie Alden, drawing on her long
gray gloves, was entertaining their visitor.

Bessie said nothing, but Willie