d they looked at her a good deal. Jasper Quentyns
favored her with one quick glance; he was sitting at the far end of the
table, and a very pretty girl was placed at his side. He saw the rose in
Hilda's hair, and his heart beat quickly; his spirits rose several
degrees, and he became so delightful and communicative to his neighbor
that she thought him quite the pleasantest and handsomest man she had
ever met.

Quentyns did not glance again at Hilda. He was satisfied, for he felt
pretty sure that a certain question which he meant to ask would be
answered in the way he wished.

The dinner came to an end, and the ladies withdrew into the drawing
room. Two little figures in white dresses were waiting to receive them.
Babs trotted everywhere, and was universally admired, petted, and
praised. Judy stood in the shadow behind one of the curtains and watched
Hilda.

"Come out, Judy, and be sociable," said her sister.

"I don't want to talk. I am so happy here, Hilda," she replied.

"I do like spiders when they are very, very fat," sounded Babs' voice
across the room.

"Oh, you droll little creature!" exclaimed a lady who sat near; "why, I
should fly from a spider any distance."

"Perhaps you like earwigs better," said Babs.

"Earwigs, they are horrors; oh, you quaint, quaint little soul."

Babs did not care to be called a quaint little soul. She trotted across
the room and stood by Judy's side.

"There's nobody at all funny here," she said in a whisper. "I wish I had
my Kitty Tiddliwinks to play with; I don't care for fine ladies."

"It is time for you to go to bed, Babs," said Judy.

"No, it isn't. I am not going before you go. You always talk as if I
were a baby, and I aren't. Judy, you might tell me now what it is to be
engaged to be married."

"No, I can't tell you now," said Judy; "the gentlemen are coming in, and
we mustn't talk and interrupt. If you won't go to bed you must stay
quiet. You know if Aunt Marjorie sees you she'll send you off at once;
now they are going to sing; ah, that'll be jolly. You stay quiet, Babs,
and listen."

Four young men surrounded the piano. Jasper Quentyns was one; Hilda
played the accompaniment. The four voices did ample justice to the
beautiful glee--"Men were deceivers ever." The well-known words were
applauded vigorously, the applause rose to an encore. Judy listened as
if fascinated.

"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot