added in her
blandest tone. 'When will you come to understand what my position is?'

The Rocketts had put aside all thoughts of what they esteemed May's duty
towards the Hall; they earnestly hoped that her stay with them might pass
unobserved by Lady and Miss Shale, whom, they felt sure, it would be
positively dangerous for the girl to meet. Mrs. Rockett had not slept for
anxiety on this score. The father was also a good deal troubled; but his
wonder at May's bearing and talk had, on the whole, an agreeable
preponderance over the uneasy feeling. He and Betsy shared a secret
admiration for the brilliant qualities which were flashed before their
eyes; they privately agreed that May was more of a real lady than either
the baronet's hard-tongued wife or the disdainful Hilda Shale.

So Miss Rockett took the early afternoon train, and found her way to Mrs.
Lindley's, where she sent in her card. At once admitted to the
drawing-room, she gave a rapid account of herself, naming persons whose
acquaintance sufficiently recommended her. Mrs. Lindley was a
good-humoured, chatty woman, who had a lively interest in everything
'progressive'; a new religion or a new cycling-costume stirred her to just
the same kind of happy excitement; she had no prejudices, but a decided
preference for the society of healthy, high-spirited, well-to-do people.
Miss Rockett's talk was exactly what she liked, for it glanced at
innumerable topics of the 'advanced' sort, was much concerned with
personalities, and avoided all tiresome precision of argument.

'Are you making a stay here?' asked the hostess.

'Oh! I am with my people in the country--not far off,' May answered in an
offhand way. 'Only for a day or two.'

Other callers were admitted, but Miss Rockett kept the lead in talk; she
glowed with self-satisfaction, feeling that she was really showing to great
advantage, and that everybody admired her. When the door again opened the
name announced was 'Miss Shale.' Stopping in the middle of a swift
sentence, May looked at the newcomer, and saw that it was indeed Hilda
Shale, of Brent Hall; but this did not disconcert her. Without lowering her
voice she finished what she was saying, and ended in a mirthful key. The
baronet's daughter had come into town on her bicycle, as was declared by
the short skirt, easy jacket, and brown shoes, which well displayed her
athletic person. She was a tall, strongly built girl of six-and-twenty,
with a face of hard com