worthy people, too--but these were
people one could not be expected to know. Miss St. Clair thanked heaven
that she had had the advantages of an English education and up-bringing,
and she lamented the stubborn democratic opinions of her brother,
who insisted that Harry should attend the public school. She was not
surprised, therefore, though greatly grieved, that Harry chose his
friends in school with a fine disregard of "their people." It was with
surprise amounting to pain that she found herself one day introduced by
her nephew to Billie Barclay, who turned out to be the son of Harry's
favorite confectioner. To his aunt's remonstrance it seemed to Harry a
sufficient reply that Billy was a "brick" and a shining "quarter" on the
school Rugby team.

"But, Harry, think of his people!" urged his aunt.

"Oh, rot!" replied her irreverent nephew; "I don't play with his
people."

"Yes, but Harry, you don't expect to make him your friend?"

"But he is my friend, and I don't care what his people are. Besides, I
think his governor is a fine old boy, and I know he gives us jolly good
taffy."

"But, Harry," answered his aunt, in despair, "you are positively
dreadful. Why can't you make friends in your own set? There is Hubert
Evans and the Langford boys."

"Evans!" snorted Harry, with contempt; "beastly snob, and the Langfords
are regular Mollies!" Whereupon Miss St. Clair gave up her nephew as
impossible. But Billie did not repeat his visit to his friend Harry's
home. Miss Frances St. Clair had a way of looking through her pince-nez
that even a boy could understand and would seek to avoid.

With Maimie, Miss St. Clair achieved better results. She was a gentle
girl, with an affectionate, yielding disposition, tending towards
indolence and self-indulgence. Her aunt's chief concern about her was
that she should be frocked and mannered as became her position. Her
education was committed to a very select young ladies' school, where
only the daughters of the first families ever entered. What or how they
were taught, her aunt never inquired. She felt quite sure that the lady
principal would resent, as indeed she ought, any such inquiry. Hence
Maimie came to have a smattering of the English poets, could talk in
conversation-book French, and could dash off most of the notes of a few
waltzes and marches from the best composers, her piece de resistance,
however, being "La Priere d'une Vierge." She carried with her from
school a port