ited
for Captain Bertram. She almost always wore white in the hot days, and
she was in white now. She chose natural flowers as her invariable
adornment, and two crimson roses were now daintily fastened into her
girdle.

Beatrice could not help wondering what special thing Captain Bertram had
to communicate. She was not particularly troubled or roused in any way
by his admiration of her. He was certainly pleasant to talk to; she had
never met a refined man of the world before, and Captain Bertram was
handsome to look at, and had a charming way of saying charming nothings.
Beatrice did not object to his talking to her, but her heart had never
yet in the smallest degree responded to any beat of his.

More than one young man in Northbury had fallen in love with Beatrice.
She had been very kind to these would-be lovers, and had managed
skilfully to get rid of them. No man yet had secured even a small place
in her affections.

"Are you going out this morning, Bee?" asked her mother. "It's very
fine, and you are fond of a row on the water in the sunshine. It's
wonderful to me how your skin never tans nor freckles, child. You might
be out in all weathers without its doing you harm."

Mrs. Meadowsweet was seated in her arm-chair. In her hand she held a
piece of knitting. She was making a quilt for Beatrice's bed. This quilt
was composed of little squares of an elaborate pattern, with much
honey-combing, and many other fancy and delicate stitches ornamenting
it. Mrs. Meadowsweet liked to feel her fingers employed over Beatrice's
quilt.

"With each stitch I give her a thought," she said to herself. "Beatrice
will sleep soft and warm under this covering when it is finished," the
old mother used to say, "for every bit of it is put together with love."

She was knitting Beatrice's quilt now, her chair drawn up as usual to
face the sunny garden, and on the footstool at her feet her favorite
tabby cat was curled.

"It is too hot for me to go out this morning," replied Beatrice. "So for
that reason I don't go, and also for another. Captain Bertram has
promised to call."

"Eh?" queried Mrs. Meadowsweet. To call, has he? Maybe you'd like to ask
him to lunch, child?"

"No, mother, I don't think so."

"You can if you like, Trixie. Say the word, and I'll have a spring
chicken done to a turn, and a cream, and a jelly put in hand."

"Oh, no, mother, he won't want to pay such a long call."

"Well, he's a nice young man. I have n