now. He is
too rich. And he smiles blandly, and takes a sort of after-dinner view
of things, as if he coincided with the arrangements of Providence.
Don't you take coffee? Tea, then. I have met your aunt--I mean, Mr.
Lavender's aunt: such a dear old lady she is!"

"I don't like her," said Sheila.

"Oh, don't you, really?"

"Not at present, but I shall try to like her."

"Well," said Mrs. Lorraine calmly, "you know she has her
peculiarities. I wish she wouldn't talk so much about Marcus Antoninus
and doses of medicine. I fancy I smell calomel when she comes near.
I suppose if she were in a pantomime, they'd dress her up as a phial,
tie a string round her neck and label her 'POISON.' Dear me, how
languid one gets in this climate! Let us sit down. I wish I was as
strong as mamma."

They sat down together, and Mrs. Lorraine evidently expected to be
petted and made much of by her new companion. She gave herself pretty
little airs and graces, and said no more cutting things about anybody.
And Sheila somehow found herself being drawn to the girl, so that she
could scarcely help taking her hand, and saying how sorry she was to
see her so pale and fine and delicate. The hand, too, was so small
that the tiny white fingers seemed scarcely bigger than the claws of
a bird. Was not that slender waist, to which some little attention was
called by a belt of bold blue, just a little too slender for
health, although the bust and shoulders were exquisitely and finely
proportioned?

"We were at the Academy all the morning, and mamma is not a bit tired.
Why has not Mr. Lavender anything in the Academy? Oh, I forgot" she
added, with a smile. "Of course, he has been very much engaged. But
now I suppose he will settle down to work."

Sheila wished that this fragile-looking girl would not so continually
refer to her husband; but how was any one to find fault with her when
she put a little air of plaintiveness into the ordinarily cold gray
eyes, and looked at her small hand as much as to say, "The fingers
there are very small, and even whiter than the glove that covers them.
They are the fingers of a child, who ought to be petted."

Then the men came in from the dining-room. Lavender looked round to
see where Sheila was--perhaps with a trifle of disappointment that she
was not the most prominent figure there. Had he expected to find all
the women surrounding her and admiring her, and all the men going up
to pay court to her? Sheila w