tle time at
home."

"So you don't like it."

"Oh, yes! it is very pleasant," said Meta. "It is so entertaining when
we talk it over afterwards, and I like to hear how Flora is admired, and
called the beauty of the season. I tell George, and we do so gloat over
it together! There was an old French marquis the other night, a dear
old man, quite of the ancien regime, who said she was exactly like the
portraits of Madame de Maintenon, and produced a beautiful miniature on
a snuff-box, positively like that very pretty form of face of hers.
The old man even declared that Mistress Rivers was worthy to be a
Frenchwoman."

"I should like to kick him!" amiably responded Harry.

"I hope you won't to-morrow! But don't let us waste our time over this;
I want so much to hear about New Zealand."

Meta was well read in Australasian literature, and drew out a great deal
more information from Harry than Norman had yet heard. She made him talk
about the Maori pah near his uncle's farm, where the Sunday services
were conducted by an old gentleman tattooed elegantly in the face, but
dressed like an English clergyman; and tell of his aunt's troubles about
the younger generation, whom their elders, though Christians themselves,
could not educate, and who she feared would relapse into heathenism, for
want of instruction, though with excellent dispositions.

"How glad you must be that you are likely to go!" exclaimed Meta to
Norman, who had sat silently listening.

The sound of the door bell was the first intimation that Harry's
histories had occupied them until long past twelve o'clock.

"Now, then!" cried Meta, springing forward, as if intending to meet
Flora with the tidings, but checking herself, as if she ought not to
be the first. There was a pause. Flora was hearing downstairs that Mr.
Norman May and another gentleman had arrived, and, while vexed at her
own omission, and annoyed at Norman's bringing friends without waiting
for permission, she was yet prepared to be courteous and amiable. She
entered in her rich black watered silk, deeply trimmed with lace,
and with silver ornaments in her dark hair, so graceful and
distinguished-looking, that Harry stood suspended, hesitating, for an
instant, whether he beheld his own sister, especially as she made a
dignified inclination towards him, offering her hand to Norman, as she
said, "Meta has told you--" But there she broke off, exclaiming, "Ha! is
it possible! No, surely it cannot b