ear," said her guide, springing
down and helping her to alight. "This is Grandma Armstrong's place.
Remember that she's grandmother to nearly all Algonquin, and don't
laugh at her peculiarities when there's any one round. You'll have to
when you're alone, just as a safety-valve. You'll like the daughters.
The elder one is a bit stiff, but they're fine ladies." He had rung
the bell by this time, and now it was opened by a tall handsome lady,
slightly over middle age. The Misses Armstrong, because of an old
acquaintance with her father, had stepped aside from the strict rules
they had hitherto followed, and had taken the new school teacher as a
boarder. Helen had often heard her father speak of them and knew, the
moment the door opened, that this was Miss Armstrong, the eldest, who
had been a belle in her father's day. She belonged so obviously to the
house, that Helen had a complete sense of fitness at the sight of her.
Like it she was tall, erect and fine looking, in a stately, stiff
fashion.

Lawyer Ed presented his charge in his most affable manner, and Miss
Armstrong smiled upon him graciously and upon her with some reserve. A
boarder, after all, had to be kept at a distance, even though she were
the daughter of an old friend.

"And how is Grandma, to-day?" enquired Lawyer Ed. "And Annabel? Isn't
she home?"

"Mother has gone to bed this afternoon, Edward, but she is very well, I
thank you. She will be disappointed when she hears you were here.
Annabel has gone to the meeting of the Club. She will be back
presently. I remained at home to welcome Miss Murray."

"Good-bye just now, then, my child," he said paternally, taking Helen's
hand. He saw the homesick anguish returning to her big eyes, and he
squeezed the hand until it hurt. "You'll have a great time in
Algonquin, never fear. The air here will bring the roses back to your
cheeks. Won't it, Elinor?"

Miss Armstrong agreed and bade him a gracious good-afternoon, moving
out on the steps to see him to the gate. She then led the way up the
long steep stair. The ceilings of Rosemount were very high, and every
step echoed weirdly. They went along another hall upstairs flanked by
two terrible pictures, one a scene of carnage on land--Wellington
meeting Bluecher on the field of Waterloo, the other an equally dreadful
scene on water--Nelson's death on the _Victory_. Her bedroom was a big
airy place, stiff and formal and in perfect order. The cei