rial youth of her. Sophy felt
as a wilting, cut rose might feel, looking from its crystal vase upon a
vigorous sister-blossom still rooted in the warm earth. It was a
wretched sensation. Sophy hated herself for feeling it, and yet each
time that she glanced at Belinda it swept over her afresh.

The dinner was rather flat. Only Mrs. Horton was in really good spirits.
She was quite elated and happy over the idea of Belinda's going to stop
with Sophy at Newport. Her "coming out" would be much "smarter" and more
brilliant under Sophy's chaperonage than under poor, dear Grace's.

Belinda, for her part, was rather depressed by Sophy's appearance in the
grey gown that filmed like smoke about her beautiful bare shoulders.
Belinda had not taken in quite how lovely her rival was when she had
first seen her that afternoon in plain white linen. And just as her
youth troubled Sophy, so the mystery of experience in Sophy's dark-grey
eyes troubled Belinda. She had a moment--one bitter, stinging moment--of
feeling not _quite_ so cock-sure about the future.

And Harold Grey, nervously eating far more than he wanted in his effort
not to look too often at Belinda, was thinking how sure he was that his
mother would pronounce her "not quite a lady," and yet how much more she
attracted him than any of the most genuine "ladies" that he had ever
seen. "Don't be an abandoned ass," he kept telling himself. "You're an
infant's tutor with a fat salary paid you to keep your place. Now keep
it--confound you!"

Loring knew that his mother had some old-fashioned prejudice against
having champagne served every day for dinner, and as a rule he
submitted, though grumblingly, while he was at Nahant. But to-night he
felt that he must have the cheering beverage at all costs. Besides, his
mother was ill in bed upstairs. Old Biggs looked like a disapproving,
Methodistic owl when the order was given. It violated his principles as
Mrs. Loring's butler of twenty years' standing, to serve champagne to a
family party of five.

"I'm afraid it will hurt your mother's feelings, Morris," Sophy
ventured, as Biggs left the room with a very rigid gait.

"Pooh! Why need she know? Such a silly notion, at any rate! And we ought
to drink Linda's health--after her two years in foreign parts. You like
champagne, don't you, Linda?"

"You bet!" said Belinda. She flashed both rows of teeth in pleased
anticipation.

"Linda!" expostulated her mother, just as in old days. S