ooking dreamily out of the window for a few minutes,
till the entrance of her mother roused her, and she turned to
pour out a cup of tea for her.

"It is cold, mamma dear; do let me make some fresh."

"No, thank you, dear; this will do very well," said Mrs. Porter;
and she took off her bonnet and sipped the cold tea. Mary watched
her silently for a minute, and then, taking the letter she had
been reading out of her pocket, said, "I have a letter from
Katie, mamma."

Mrs. Porter took the letter and read it; and, as Mary still
watched, she saw a puzzled look coming over her mother's face.
Mrs. Porter finished the letter, and then looked stealthily at
Mary, who on her side was now busily engaged in putting up the
tea-things.

"It is very embarrassing," said Mrs. Porter.

"What, mamma?"

"Oh, of course, my dear, I mean Katie's telling us of her
cousin's being in London, and sending us his address--" and then
she paused.

"Why, mamma?"

"Your papa will have to make up his mind whether he will ask him
to the house. Katie would surely never have told him that she has
written."

"Mr. and Mrs. Brown were so very kind. It would seem so strange,
so ungrateful, not to ask him."

"I am afraid he is not the sort of young man--in short, I must
speak to your papa."

Mrs. Porter looked hard at her daughter, who was still busied
with the tea-things. She had risen, bonnet in hand, to leave the
room; but now changed her mind, and, crossing to her daughter,
put her arm round her neck. Mary looked up steadily into her
eyes, then blushed slightly, and said quietly,

"No, mamma; indeed, it is not as you think."

Her mother stooped and kissed her, and left the room, telling her
to get dressed, as the carriage would be round in a few minutes.

Her trials for the day were not over. She could see by their
manner at dinner that her father and mother had been talking
about her. Her father took her to a ball in the evening, where
they met St. Cloud, who fastened himself to them. She was dancing
a quadrille, and her father stood near her, talking
confidentially to St. Cloud. In the intervals of the dance,
scraps of their conversation reached her.

"You knew him, then, at Oxford?"

"Yes, very slightly."

"I should like to ask you now, as a friend--" Here Mary's partner
reminded her that she ought to be dancing. When she had returned
to her place again she heard--

"You think, then, that it was a bad business?"

"It was not