ing, peevish--cripples generally
are--but full of a curious force of some hidden kind. Isabel is very good
to her, and rather afraid of her. It seems to me that she is afraid of
all her belongings. I believe they put upon her, and she has as much
capacity as anybody I ever knew for letting herself be trampled upon.'

'What, that splendid, vivacious creature!' said Kendal incredulously. 'I
think I'd back her for holding her own.'

'Ah, well, you see,' said the American, with the quiet superiority of a
three weeks' acquaintance, 'I know something of her by now, and she's not
quite what you might think her at first sight. However, whether she is
afraid of them or not, it's to be hoped they will take care of her.
Naturally, she has a splendid physique, but it seems to me that London
tries her. The piece they have chosen for her is a heavy one, and then of
course society is down upon her, and in a few weeks she'll be the rage.'

'I haven't seen her at all,' said Kendal, beginning perhaps to be a
little bored with the subject of Miss Bretherton, and turning, eye-glass
in hand, towards the sculpture. 'Come and take me some evening.'

'By all means. But you must come and meet the girl herself at my sister's
next Friday. She will be there at afternoon tea. I told Agnes I should
ask anybody I liked. I warned her--you know her little weaknesses!--that
she had better be first in the field: a month hence, it will be
impossible to get hold of Miss Bretherton at all.'

'Then I'll certainly come, and do my worshipping before the crowd
collects,' said Kendal, adding, as he half-curiously shifted his
eye-glass so as to take in Wallace's bronzed, alert countenance, 'How did
you happen to know her?'

'Rutherford introduced me. He's an old friend of mine.'

'Well,' said Kendal, moving off, 'Friday, then. I shall be very glad to
see Mrs. Stuart; it's ages since I saw her last.'

The American nodded cordially to him, and walked away. He was one of
those pleasant, ubiquitous people who know every one and find time for
everything--a well-known journalist, something of an artist, and still
more of a man of the world, who went through his London season with some
outward grumbling, but with a real inward zest such as few popular
diners-out are blessed with. That he should have attached himself to the
latest star was natural enough. He was the most discreet and profitable
of cicerones, with a real talent for making himself useful to nice
pe