g the family features, and of
being, so far, the recipient of her uncle's greatest favour. And so
Ruth now leant back with an air of languid elegance, smiling sweetly at
her companions.

Mollie's bright head peeped from beneath the shadow of a palm. She held
in her hand a spray of heliotrope, which she had picked in passing, and
from time to time bent to smell the fragrance, with little murmurs of
delight.

But Mollie was obviously longing to say something, and when the time
came that she met Jack Melland's eye she suddenly plucked up courage to
put it into words.

"Don't you think we ought to introduce ourselves properly?" she cried
eagerly. "We have been told each other's names, and talked politely at
dinner, but that's not really being introduced. We ought to know
something about each other, if we are to be companions here. I don't
know if you two know each other; but we did not know of your existence
until to-day. My mother used to stay at the Court when she was a bride,
and she loved Aunt Edna, and has often talked to us about her; but she
knew very little of her relations, and for the last twenty years or more
she has never seen Uncle Bernard until he suddenly descended upon us
last week.

"We live in the North--in Liverpool. People in the South seem to think
it is a dreadful place; but it isn't at all. The river is splendid, and
out in the suburbs, where we live, it's very pretty, near a beautiful
big park. The people are nice, too. We are rather conceited about
ourselves in comparison with the people in the towns round about. You
have heard the saying, `Manchester man, Liverpool gentleman,' and we are
proud of our county, too. `What Lancashire thinks to-day, England
thinks to-morrow.' I really must boast a little bit, because South-
country people are so proud and superior, and seem to think that no one
but themselves knows how to speak or behave. Someone said to me once,
`You live in Liverpool, then why haven't you a Lancashire accent?' I
was so cross. What should she have thought of me if I had said, `You
live in London, why don't you speak like a Cockney?' We are not at all
ashamed, but very proud indeed, of coming from the North-countree."

"`Oh, the oak and the ash,
And the bonnie ivy tree,'"

chanted Victor, in a pleasant baritone voice, at the sound of which
Mollie flushed with delight, and cried eagerly--

"Ah, you are musical! That's nice. We must have some grand singing