"Who is that beautiful and talented girl?" Amos Palmer asked of his host,
when the young people were tired of dancing, and Mona quietly withdrew
from the room.

"Her name is Ruth Richards, I believe," Mr. Wellington replied.

"You 'believe!' Isn't she a guest here?" inquired Mr. Palmer, with
surprise.

"No; she is simply a maid in the employ of Mrs. Montague."

"Well, it is a great pity."

"What is a great pity?"

"That such a lovely young lady should have to serve any one in that
capacity; she is beautiful and talented enough to fill any position."

And this was Amos Palmer's opinion regarding Ray's unknown lady-love.

CHAPTER XVII.

MRS. MONTAGUE QUESTIONS MONA.

"Where did you learn to play the piano, Ruth?" Mrs. Montague inquired the
next morning, while Mona was engaged in assisting her to dress, and she
turned a searching glance upon her as she put the question.

To conceal the flush that mounted to her brow, Mona stooped to pick up a
pin.

It had not occurred to her, when she offered to play for the dancing the
previous evening, that such proficiency in music would be regarded as
something very unusual in a sewing-girl, and might occasion remark.

Her only object had been to oblige Kitty McKenzie and avoid dancing with
the guests.

"I had a relative who gave me lessons for a while," she said, in reply to
Mrs. Montague's query.

"For a while!" repeated that lady, who had not been unobservant of the
flush. "You finger the piano as if you had been accustomed to diligent
practice all your life, and you must have had the best of instruction,
too."

"I am very fond of music, and it was never any task to me to practice,"
Mona remarked. Then she added, to change the topic: "Shall I baste this
ruffle in the full width, or shall I set it down a trifle?"

Mrs. Montague smiled at the tact of her pretty companion, in thus
attempting to draw her attention to her own affairs.

A good many things had convinced her of late that her seamstress had not
been reared in poverty, and certain suspicions, that had startled her
when she first saw her, were beginning to force themselves again upon
her.

"You can set it down a trifle," she replied; then she asked, persistently
returning to the previous question: "Why do you not give music lessons,
since you play so well, instead of sewing for your living? I should
suppose it would be a much more congenial occupation."

"There are so many music teachers,