a Conservative
another. That comes of your debating societies. You take contrary
sides, and mix up a balderdash of ideas, until you don't know whether
you are standing on your head or your heels;" and it was after this
that Dick found his refuge with Phillis.

It was little better when they were all in the drawing-room together.
If Mr. Mayne had invited them there for the purpose of keeping them
all under his own eyes and making them uncomfortable, he could not
have managed better. When Dick suggested a stroll in the garden, he
said,--

"Pshaw! what nonsense proposing such a thing, when the dews are heavy
and the girls will catch their deaths of cold!"

"We do it every evening of our life," observed Nan, hardily; but even
she dared not persevere in the face of this protest, though she
exchanged a rebellious look with Dick that did him good and put him in
a better humor.

They found their way into the conservatory after that, but were hunted
out on pretence of having a little music; at least Nan would have it
that it was pretence.

"Your father does not care much for music, I know," she whispered, as
she placed herself at the grand piano, while Dick leaned against it
and watched her. It was naughty of Nan, but there was no denying that
she found Mr. Mayne more aggravating than usual this evening.

"Come, come, Miss Nancy!" he called out,--he always called her that
when he wished to annoy her, for Nan had a special dislike to her
quaint, old-fashioned name; it had been her mother's and grandmother's
name; in every generation there had been a Nancy Challoner,--"come,
come, Miss Nancy! we cannot have you playing at hide-and-seek in this
fashion. We want some music. Give us something rousing, to keep us all
awake." And Nan had reluctantly placed herself at the piano.

She did her little best according to orders, for she dared not offend
Dick's father. None of the Challoners were accomplished girls. Dulce
sang a little, and so did Nan, but Phillis could not play the simplest
piece without bungling and her uncertain little warblings, which were
sweet but hardly true, were reserved for church.

Dulce sang very prettily, but she could only manage her own
accompaniments or a sprightly valse. Nan, who did most of the
execution of the family, was a very fair performer from a young lady's
point of view, and that is not saying much. She always had her piece
ready if people wanted her to play. She sat down without nervousne