ng the old gentleman might take the opportunity
to put in a compliment; but he did not rise to the occasion, so she
continued,--

"Other people asked if I were one of the bluebells of Scotland; but
we're not Scotch, although our name's Stuart. My father was English. I
can't remember him properly, I was so little when he died, but mother
always says I'm his very image."

"Rubbish!" growled the colonel suddenly.

"Why!" exclaimed Belle, in astonishment, "how can you tell? You didn't
know him? He was very tall and fair, mother says, and _so_ handsome. She
cries when I talk about him, so I don't like to speak of him very
often."

"What is she doing for you in the way of lessons? Is it all parties and
trinkets, or do you ever do anything useful?" asked her companion.

"Of course I have lessons," replied Belle with dignity, feeling rather
hurt at his tone. "I learn French, and drawing, and music, and dancing,
and a great many other things."

"And which do you like best?"

"I don't know. I'm not very fond of history or geography, but mother
hopes I'll get on with music. It's so useful to be able to play well,
you see, when one comes out. I think I like the dancing lessons most; we
learn such delightful fancy steps. Some of us did a skirt dance at the
cavalry bazaar last winter, and I was the Queen of the Butterflies. I
had a white dress lined with yellow and turquoise, and I shook it out
like this when I danced, to show the colours. People clapped ever so
much, and it was such a success we had to do it over again, in aid of
the hospital. Our mistress wants to get up a flower dance for the
exhibition _fete_ next winter, and she promised I should be the Rose
Queen, but mother says perhaps I may go to school before then."

"Time you did, too--high time--and to a school where they put something
in the girls' heads," remarked the colonel, almost as if he were
thinking aloud. "It ought to be history and geography, instead of
Bluebells and Rose Queens. I don't approve of capering about on a stage
in fancy dress."

Belle was much offended. The conversation had not turned out nearly so
interesting as she expected. Instead of being appreciated, she had an
uneasy sensation that the old gentleman was making fun of her; and as
this was not at all to her taste, she thought it time to beat a retreat;
so, noticing the Wrights approaching in the distance, she rose and put
up her parasol.

"I see some of my friends," she said, in w