arquhar, by doing and saying things
that she knew he would disapprove. She went so far that he was
seriously grieved, and did not even remonstrate and "lecture," and
then she was disappointed and irritated; for, somehow, with all her
indignation at interference, she liked to be lectured by him; not
that she was aware of this liking of hers, but still it would have
been more pleasant to be scolded than so quietly passed over. Her two
little sisters, with their wide-awake eyes, had long ago put things
together, and conjectured. Every day they had some fresh mystery
together, to be imparted in garden walks and whispered talks.

"Lizzie, did you see how the tears came into Mimie's eyes when Mr
Farquhar looked so displeased when she said good people were always
dull? I think she's in love." Mary said the last words with grave
emphasis, and felt like an oracle of twelve years of age.

"I don't," said Lizzie. "I know I cry often enough when papa is
cross, and I'm not in love with him."

"Yes! but you don't look as Mimie did."

"Don't call her Mimie--you know papa does not like it."

"Yes; but there are so many things papa does not like I can never
remember them all. Never mind about that; but listen to something
I've got to tell you, if you'll never, never tell."

"No, indeed I won't, Mary. What is it?"

"Not to Mrs Denbigh?"

"No, not even to Mrs Denbigh."

"Well, then, the other day--last Friday, Mimie--"

"Jemima!" interrupted the more conscientious Elizabeth.

"Jemima, if it must be so," jerked out Mary, "sent me to her desk for
an envelope, and what do you think I saw?"

"What?" asked Elizabeth, expecting nothing less than a red-hot
Valentine, signed Walter Farquhar, _pro_ Bradshaw, Farquhar, and Co.,
in full.

"Why, a piece of paper, with dull-looking lines upon it, just like
the scientific dialogues; and I remembered all about it. It was once
when Mr Farquhar had been telling us that a bullet does not go in a
straight line, but in a something curve, and he drew some lines on a
piece of paper; and Mimie--"

"Jemima," put in Elizabeth.

"Well, well! she had treasured it up, and written in a corner, 'W.
F., April 3rd.' Now, that's rather like love, is not it? For Jemima
hates useful information just as much as I do, and that's saying a
great deal; and yet she had kept this paper, and dated it."

"If that's all, I know Dick keeps a paper with Miss Benson's name
written on it, and yet he's not in love wi