omen, and help, not hinder him in his work." It isn't necessary to
be prim and proper--don't think that! The Misses Prunes and Prisms, who
are always preaching, weary rather than help, but when the bright,
sweet-natured girl, who loves a joke, and can be the whole-hearted
companion of a summer day, speaks a word of reproof, or draws back from
a proposed enterprise, her action carries with it a treble weight of
influence.

When the whole party were seated in the box--Miss Beveridge and Betty in
the front row, Cynthia and governess number two in the second, and the
two "men" at the back--Miles had little attention to spare for the
music, so absorbed was he in gazing at Cynthia's delicately-cut profile,
and in weaving about her the halo of a young man's first romance. There
was no romance in the two girls; they were absorbed in admiration of the
wonderful building itself, in enjoyment of the music, and in anxiety to
do their duty to dear Mrs Vanburgh's "Govies," as they irreverently
termed Miss Beveridge and her companion. Even when on pleasure bent,
the former could not be called "responsive." When asked, "Do you like
music?" she replied curtly, "No! I teach it!" which reduced the
questioner to stupid silence, though her thoughts were active enough.

"Oh, indeed! That's one for me, as I am a pupil still! It's the
stupidity of pupils which has made her dislike music, but then--why does
she come to a concert? Why couldn't she have had the decency to refuse,
and let someone else have the ticket? Oh, I do dislike you--you cold,--
cutting, disagreeable, ungrateful, snappy old thing!"

Betty sat back in her chair and let her eyes rest on Miss Beveridge's
profile, as that lady in her turn stared fixedly at the orchestra. She
was wearing quite "a decent little toque," and had taken pains with the
arrangement of her hair. Betty was at the stage when she imagined that
it was impossible that life could retain any interest after the age of
thirty, but it dawned upon her now that, at some far-off, prehistoric
period, Miss Beveridge had been handsome--even very handsome, which made
her present condition all the more pitiable. Suppose, just suppose for
a moment, that one became old and lonely, and poor and plain and snappy,
oneself! It was too horrible a prospect to be believed; much more
satisfactory to take refuge in the usual rose-coloured dreams!

The Royal Box was close at hand--empty, unfortunately, of interesting