my own mistress."

"Well, I have sent in my resignation, and I am free. But I am a little
afraid about you. You have been used to every luxury--and the
carriage--and all that."

"One of my ambitions is to drive in a hansom cab. Another is to have a
latch-key. Both will soon be gratified. I am only sorry for one thing."

"What is that, dear?"

"That we can't be Rosalind and Celia; that I can't put on man's clothes
and liberty."

"But you don't like men--you always want to avoid them."

Miss Grey said nothing in defence of her own consistency. She was
thinking that if she had been a man, she would have been spared the
vexation of having to listen to Mr. Augustus Sheppard's proposals.

"I suspect," Miss Blanchet said, "that people will say we are more like
Don Quixote and Sancho Panza."

"Which of us is the Sancho?"

"Oh, I of course; I am the faithful follower."

"You--poor little poetess, full of dreams, and hopes, and unselfishness!
Why, I shall have to see that you get something to eat at tolerably
regular intervals."

"How happy we shall be! And I shall be able to complete my poem! Do you
know, Minola," she said confidentially, "I do believe I shall be able to
make a career in London. I do indeed! The miserable details of daily
life here pressed me down, down," and she pressed her own hand upon her
forehead to illustrate the idea. "There, in freedom and quiet, I do
think I shall be able to prove to the world that I am worth a hearing!"

This was a tender subject with Miss Grey. She could not bear to disturb
by a word the harmless illusion of her friend, and yet the almost fierce
truthfulness of her nature would not allow her to murmur a sentence of
unmeaning flattery.

"One word, Mary," she said; "if you grow famous, no marrying--mind!"

Little Miss Blanchet laughed and then grew sad, and cast her eyes down.

"Who would ask me to marry, my dearest? And even if they did, the buried
past would come out of the grave--and----"

She slightly raised both hands in deprecation of this mournful
resurrection.

"Well, I have all to go through with my people yet."

"They won't prevent you?" Miss Blanchet asked anxiously.

"They can't. In a few months I should be my own mistress; and what is
the use of waiting? Besides, they don't really care--except for the sake
of showing authority and proving to girls that they ought to be
contented slaves. They know now that I am no slave. I do believe my
esteemed step-