the
drawing-room. I've often thought it would be much nicer to hang them up
in pairs, but Uncle George won't hear of it. He says they always have
been kept separate, and he doesn't like to have anything altered. Come
and see the ladies."

To the drawing-room accordingly they went. It was a large room, and
contained many treasures in the way of beautiful and valuable old
furniture and china. As a rule it was kept shrouded in dust-sheets, but
to-day Lisbeth had uncovered everything in preparation for the visitor.
There was a faint, delicious scent of potpourri about the room, the
recipe of which had been handed down from one generation of Hunter
ladies to the next, and was a speciality of the house. On the walls hung
the portraits of these same ladies, smiling serenely down upon the room
they had known so well. On the rare occasions when Marjory spent any
time in this room, she used to study the faces of these dames, and try
to trace some likeness to herself amongst them; but not one of them had
the curly hair and dark eyes that were her portion, and the child
sometimes felt sad to think that she was so unlike all the rest of her
family.

Blanche was delighted, and studied all the portraits to the last
one--that of Marjory's grandmother.

"But isn't there one of your mother?" she asked.

Marjory blushed. "Yes, there is one," she replied, "but it's in another
room."

Somehow she felt ashamed of that shut-up, silent room with its hidden
treasures that she had never seen.

"But," she continued, "I've got a picture of her when she was a girl,
inside this locket." And she unfastened a small, old-fashioned trinket
which she wore on a fine gold chain round her neck.

"Oh, how pretty!" cried Blanche; "but not a bit like you, is she?" And
then, somewhat confused lest Marjory should misunderstand her, she
continued, "I don't mean that you're not pretty, because you are; only
it's so funny that you are so dark and your mother was so fair."

"I often and often wish I were fair," said Marjory wistfully. "I should
love to be."

"Oh, but your hair is so curly and nice, it's just as good as fair hair.
Mother always says that all young girls are pretty so long as they keep
themselves tidy and fresh and try to be good. I used to be very cross
with my hair, especially when boys in London would call 'carrots' after
me, until at last mother made me understand that it is really quite
wrong not to be pleased with whatever hair or ey