f; at any rate, having caused trouble in the house
that shelters you, that you haven't shame enough to refrain from
flirting, before our very eyes, with the first man that appears."

Ida stared at her in amazement, too great for the moment to permit of
resentment.

"What is this you accuse me of?" she asked. "Oh, pray, pray, do not be
so unreasonable, so unjust!"

Mrs. Heron wagged her head, as one who is not to be deceived by any
affectation of innocence.

"No, thank you, Ida!" she exclaimed. "That won't do for us. We've seen
it with our own eyes, haven't we, Isabel?"

Isabel took out her handkerchief and began to whimper.

"I should never have thought it of you, Ida," she sobbed. "And with
George, too! And I'd only just told you that--that there had been
things between us. I do think you might have left him alone."

Ida was half distracted.

"But you really cannot mean it!" she pleaded. "I have done nothing,
said nothing. You surely do not complain of his speaking to me, of his
being simply civil and polite! Heaven knows I had no desire to exchange
a word with him. I would not have come down if Isabel had not asked me,
and I had thought you would have considered it rude of me to remain
upstairs. Oh, what can I say to convince you that you are mistaken,
that I never gave a thought to this gentleman--I forget his name--that
I do not care if I never see him again, and that--Isabel, surely you do
not think me capable of the--vulgarity, the stupidity, with which your
mother charges me!"

Isabel's sniffs and sobs only grew louder, and her demonstrative misery
worked Mrs. Heron to a higher pitch of resentment and virtuous
indignation.

"That is right, Isabel, do not answer her. It is all pretence and
deceit on her part. She knows very well that she was doing her best to
attract his attention, smiling and making eyes at him, and attempting
to catch him just as she has caught poor Joseph."

Ida's slight figure sprang erect, her face grew crimson and her eyes
flashed with a just wrath which could no longer be suppressed.

"I think you must be mad," she said in a low voice. "Indeed, you must
be mad, or you would not insult me in this way. If I were guilty of the
conduct of which you accuse me, I should not be fit to live, should not
be fit to remain in any respectable house."

"You are guilty," retorted Mrs. Heron. "And as to your being fit to
remain under this roof--and it was a respectable and happy one until