and seemed
as if he could scarcely tear himself away.

When he had gone the mother and daughter sat bolt upright in their
chairs and stared before them in a pregnant silence; and Ida, wondering
what was the matter, was about to leave the room, when Mrs. Heron said
in a hard, thin voice:

"One moment, Ida, if you please."

Ida paused at the door with her book in her hand, startled from her
dreaminess by the woman's tone and manner.

"You had better close the door, Ida. I should not like the servants to
overhear what it is my duty to say to you."

Ida closed the door and stood expectantly, and Mrs. Heron continued:

"I trust I am not one to find fault unnecessarily. I know it is the
duty of a Christian to be patient and long-suffering; but there is a
limit to one's endurance, and I regret to say that you have passed that
limit. I should not be fulfilling my duty to a young person who is
under my charge if I refrained from pointing out to you that your
conduct, since you have been under our roof, has been reprehensible and
disgraceful."

Ida was too amazed for a moment to realise the full significance of the
spiteful speech; and then, as it gradually dawned upon her, the blood
rose to her face and an indignant protest rose to her lips; but she
checked it, and merely repeated the objectionable phrase.

"Yes, disgraceful," said Mrs. Heron. "I am sorry to be compelled to use
such a word to a young girl and to one in your position; and I do not
think you make matters better by pretending not to know what I mean."

"It is no pretence, Mrs. Heron," said Ida, quite calmly. "I do not in
the least know what you mean."

"Then I'll tell you," retorted Mrs. Heron, with suppressed fury. "You
are one of the most shameless flirts I ever knew."

Ida fell an almost irresistible desire to laugh; she had been tired
when she came in, Mr. George Powler's attentions had made her still
more weary, and the sight of the two women seated bolt upright and
evidently boiling over with anger, was full of a grotesque humour which
affected her hysterically. She managed to stifle the laugh, and looked
at them patiently and calmly as she stood by the mantel-piece with one
arm resting on the shelf. The unconscious ease and grace of her
attitude increased Mrs. Heron's irritation; her thin lips trembled and
her eyes grew red.

"Oh, I am not blind," she said. "I've been quite aware of your conduct
for some time past; but I have refrained from s