e style of a girl who has had the best masters."

She did not explain--it was not necessary to explain--that her master
had been her father who was a teacher of music.

"I can't help it, can I?" she asked; "I can't help it if I turned out
different to what you expected. People sometimes do, you know. And
when you don't approve of a girl, it's English manners, I suppose, to
tell her so--kind of encourages her to persevere, and pray for better
luck next time, doesn't it? It's simple too, and prevents any foolish
errors--no mistake afterward, you see. I say, are you going to come
here often; because, if you are, I shall go away back to the States or
somewhere, or stay upstairs in my own room. You and me won't get on
very well together, I am afraid."

"I don't think you will see me very often," he replied. "That is
improbable; yet I dare say I shall come here as often as I usually
do."

"What do you mean by that?" She looked sharply and suspiciously at
him. He repeated his words, and she perceived that there was meaning
in them, and she felt uneasy.

"I don't understand at all," she said; "Clara tells me that this house
is mine. Now--don't you know--I don't intend to invite any but my own
friends to visit me in my own house?"

"That seems reasonable. No one can expect you to invite people who are
not your friends."

"Well, then, I ain't likely to call you my friend"--Arnold inclined
his head--"and I am not going to talk riddles any more. Is there
anything else you want to say?"

"Nothing more, I think, at present, thank you."

"If there is, you know, don't mind me--have it out--I'm nobody, of
course. I'm not expected to have any manners--I'm only a girl. You can
say what you please to me, and be as rude as you please; Englishmen
always are as rude as they can be to American girls--I've always heard
that."

Arnold laughed.

"At all events," he said, "you have charmed Clara, which is the only
really important thing. Good-night, Miss--Miss Deseret."

"Good-night, old man," she said, laughing, because she bore no malice,
and had given him a candid opinion; "I dare say when you get rid of
your fine company manners, and put off your swallow tail, you're not a
bad sort, after all. Perhaps, if you would confess, you are as fond of
a kick-up on your way home as anybody. Trust you quiet chaps!"

Clara had not fortunately heard much of this conversation, which,
indeed, was not meant for her, because the girl was playi