onet comb.'

'Oh, you lucky!' Una murmured. 'And gloves?'

'French kid, my dear'--Philadelphia patted her shoulder--'and morone
satin shoes and a morone and gold crape fan. That restored my calm. Nice
things always do. I wore my hair banded on my forehead with a little
curl over the left ear. And when I descended the stairs, en grande
tenue, old Amoore curtsied to me without my having to stop and look at
her, which, alas! is too often the case. Sir Arthur highly approved
of the dinner, my dear: the mackerel did come in time. We had all the
Marklake silver out, and he toasted my health, and he asked me where
my little bird's-nesting sister was. I know he did it to quiz me, so I
looked him straight in the face, my dear, and I said, "I always send her
to the nursery, Sir Arthur, when I receive guests at Marklake Hall."'

'Oh, how chee--clever of you. What did he say?' Una cried. 'He said,
"Not much change there, Bucksteed. Ged, I deserved it," and he toasted
me again. They talked about the French and what a shame it was that Sir
Arthur only commanded a brigade at Hastings, and he told Dad of a battle
in India at a place called Assaye. Dad said it was a terrible fight, but
Sir Arthur described it as though it had been a whist-party--I suppose
because a lady was present.'

'Of course you were the lady. I wish I'd seen you,'said Una.

'I wish you had, child. I had such a triumph after dinner. Rene and
Doctor Break came in. They had quite made up their quarrel, and they
told me they had the highest esteem for each other, and I laughed and
said, "I heard every word of it up in the tree." You never saw two men
so frightened in your life, and when I said, "What was 'the subject of
your remarks,' Rene?" neither of them knew where to look. Oh, I quizzed
them unmercifully. They'd seen me jump off the pigsty roof, remember.'

'But what was the subject of their remarks?' said Una.

'Oh, Doctor Break said it was a professional matter, so the laugh
was turned on me. I was horribly afraid it might have been something
unladylike and indelicate. But that wasn't my triumph. Dad asked me to
play on the harp. Between just you and me, child, I had been practising
a new song from London--I don't always live in trees--for weeks; and I
gave it them for a surprise.'

'What was it?'said Una. 'Sing it.'

'"I have given my heart to a flower." Not very difficult fingering, but
r-r-ravishing sentiment.'

Philadelphia coughed and cleared her