eal
horrid.'"

Sophia read on from the crumpled sheet with merciless distinctness.

"Come to think of it, when I was coming off I threw all my
bills and letters and things down in a heap in the back kitchen at
Harmon's; and there were some letters there that those 'cute little
Rexford girls wrote to me. They were real spoony on me, but I wasn't
spoony on them one bit, Eliza, at least, not in my heart, which having
been given to you, remained yours intact; but I sort of feel a qualm
to think how their respected pa would jaw them if those _billets-doux_
were found and handed over. You can get in at the kitchen window
quite easy by slipping the bolt with a knife; so as I know you have
a hankering after the Rexfords, I give you this chance to crib those
letters if you like. They are folded small because they had to be
put in a nick in a tree, called by those amiable young ladies, a
post-office."

"I'm real sorry I made you cry, Eliza. It's as well I didn't remain or I
might have begun admiring of you again, which might have ended in
breaking my vow to be--Only your ex-admirer,
CYRIL, P. H----."

"Oh!" cried Blue, her tears dried by the fire of injury, "we never
talked to him except when he talked to us--never!"

"There's a postscript," said Sophia, and then she read it.

"P.S. They used to cock their eyes at me when they saw me over
the fence. You had better tell them not to do it; I could not bear to
think of them doing it to anyone else."

"Oh!" cried Red, "Oh--h! he never said to us that we cocked our eyes. He
said once to Blue that the way she curled her eyelashes at him was
_real_ captivating."

Sophia rose delivering her final word: "Nothing could be more utterly
vulgar than to flirt with a young man who is beneath you in station just
because he happens to be thrown in your way."

CHAPTER XII.

When Sophia went to the hotel next morning, Eliza was not to be found.
She was not in, and no one knew where she was. Mr. Hutchins was inclined
to grumble at her absence as an act of high-handed liberty, but Miss
Rexford was not interested in his comments. She went back to her work at
home, and felt in dread of the visit which she had arranged for Alec
Trenholme to make that day. She began to be afraid that, having no
information of importance with which to absorb his attention, he might
to some extent make a fool of himself. Having seen incipient