rtant as the Kendalls."

"Don't be sarcastic. It's very unladylike. I'm not so anxious for you
to join the Guild, but I want you to go to Blanche's meeting. Mr.
Huntley was telling me those girls are getting their heads full of
romantic notions about slumming and all that nonsense. I know he
doesn't like that type of woman, so you are as well out of it."

Elizabeth's long lashes drooped rebelliously.

"What has he to do with my affairs?"

"Oh indeed! What has he to do with them?" Mrs. Jarvis imitated her
voice and manner. "He acts just now as though he had everything to do
with you." She suddenly grew serious. "Mr. Huntley is a very
fastidious gentleman, Miss Elizabeth, and you'd better not let him know
anything about your eccentric tricks. It might spoil your chances."

Elizabeth's face flushed. "My chances of what, for instance?" she
inquired.

Mrs. Jarvis laughed good-naturedly.

"Don't be absurd. Whatever you are you're not dull. Why do you
persist in ignoring what is patent to everybody? Do you mean to stand
there, Elizabeth Gordon, and tell me you never imagined yourself Mrs.
Huntley?"

"Oh, as to that: there's no limit to what one can imagine. I've
imagined myself Joan of Arc, often--and Mrs. Horace Oliver, and Jake
Martin's third--supposing he dared outlive Auntie Jinit--and a circus
rider, and a pelican of the wilderness, and any other absurd thing,
without seriously considering taking up any of the afore-mentioned
professions."

"Oh, you absurd young hypocrite. Run away now, and don't bother me.
Go right over to the church at once and help Blanche. You always seem
to miss every chance for getting better acquainted with her."

Elizabeth went slowly down the stairs, telling herself whimsically that
the way of the transgressor was hard. She had not gone many steps
before her spirit caught the mood of the radiant March day. There had
been a light fall of snow in the morning, and the streets were
beautiful for the moment under their fresh covering. The keen air and
the dazzling sunlight brought a glow to her checks and a light to her
eyes. She could not be troubled on such a radiant day by all the Miss
Kendalls in Canada.

As she crossed the park, now a sparkling fairy garden, she was suddenly
made conscious that a familiar figure was hastening along a crosspath
in her direction; a comfortable-looking, middle-aged figure that moved
with a stately stride. For an instant Elizabeth