all the girls
who are getting up this new charitable society are--well, for instance,
Miss Kendall belongs."

"And why shouldn't she? There's nothing incompatible in her being a
fine bridge-player and doing church-work. You must get rid of those
old-fashioned ideas. Take myself, for instance. You know I never
neglect my social duties, and nothing but the severest headache ever
keeps me from church."

The wistful look in the girl's eyes was being replaced by a twinkle.
"But you know a Sunday headache is always prostrating," she said
daringly.

The lady in the deep chair looked up with an angry flash of her dark
eyes; but the girl had stepped out into the light of the fire,
revealing the mischievous gleam in her dancing eyes. She knew her
power; it was a look the elder woman could rarely resist. For with all
their vast differences in temperament there had grown up a warm
attachment between these two, since that day, now several years past,
when they had run away together from an afternoon tea.

The lady's frown faded; but she spoke gravely.

"Beth, don't be so nonsensical. You know it is your duty to me--to
yourself, to join the Guild. We have not established ourselves
socially yet. Toronto is ruined by pandering to wealth. I've seen the
day when the name of Jarvis was sufficient to open any door, but times
have changed, and we must make the best of it. But you are culpably
careless regarding your best interests. Now, I particularly want you
to cultivate Blanche Kendall; the Kendalls are the foremost people in
St. Stephen's Church, and if you join this society it will make your
position assured. Only the best people are admitted. Mrs. Kendall
assured me of that herself. Now, don't trifle with your chance in
life."

"A chance in life? That's what I've been looking for ever since we
came to Toronto," said the girl, gazing discontentedly into the fire.
"But I don't think it's to be found in St. Stephen's Church. I hate
being of no use in the world."

The elder woman looked amused in her turn, now that she felt she was
gaining her point.

"You talk like a child. Will you never grow up, I wonder?"

"Not likely," said the girl in a lighter tone. She stepped across the
room and picked up a fur-lined cloak from a chair. "My body got into
long dresses too soon, my soul is still hopping about with a sun-bonnet
on, and you really mustn't expect me to be proper and fashionable until
I've turned ninet