oe Travilla
immensely, and am always glad of an excuse to pay them a visit. But that
Miss Deane,--oh! she's just _too sweet_ for _any thing!_" making a
grimace expressive of disgust and aversion, "and a consummate,
incorrigible flirt: any one of the male sex can be made to serve her
turn, from a boy of sixteen to a man of seventy-five."

"I think you are correct about that," said Zoe. "And, do you know, she
is forever making covert sneers at my youth; and it's perfectly
exasperating to me."

"Sour grapes," laughed Ella. "I wouldn't let it vex me in the least:
it's all to hide her envy of you, because you are really young, and
married too. I know very well she's dreadfully afraid of being called an
old maid."

"I suspected as much," Zoe remarked. "But don't you think gentlemen are
more apt to be pleased with her than ladies?"

"Yes: they don't see through her as her own sex do. And she is handsome,
and certainly a brilliant talker. I'd give a good deal for
conversational powers equal to hers."

"So would I," Zoe said, with an involuntary sigh.

Ella gave her a keen, inquiring look; and Zoe flushed hotly under it.

"Shall we go down now?" she asked. "It is nearly dinner-time; and we
shall have to dine alone unless some one drops in unexpectedly," she
added, as they left the room together, and passed down the stairs, arm
in arm.

"If Arthur should, wouldn't it be a trial to Miss Deane to have to dine
in her own room?" exclaimed Ella, with a gleeful laugh.

"Why, what do you mean?" asked Zoe, opening her eyes wide with surprise.

"That she would not have the slightest objection to becoming Mrs. Dr.
Conly."

"But you don't think there's any danger?" queried Zoe, by no means
pleased with the idea of having the lady in question made a member of
the family connection.

"No, and I certainly hope not. It wouldn't be I that would want to call
her sister," returned Ella emphatically.

"I should think Art had sufficient penetration to see through her," said
Zoe. "But no; on second thoughts, I'm not so sure; for Ned will have it
that it's more than half my imagination when I say she sneers at me."

"That's too bad," said Ella. "But Art is older than Ned by some years,
and has probably had more opportunity to study character."

"Yes," replied Zoe, speaking with some hesitation, not liking to admit
that any one was wiser than her husband, little as she was inclined to
own herself in the wrong when he differed from he