le reason to grumble over a tour which has so
distinctly added to your reputation."

"I was not aware," said she, with a certain careless sauciness of
manner, "that an actress was allowed to have a reputation; at least,
there are always plenty of people anxious enough to take it away."

"Gertrude," said he, sternly, "what do you mean by this constant
carping? Do you wish to cease to be an actress? Or what in all the world
do you want?"

"To cease to be an actress?" she said, with a mild wonder, and with the
sweetest of smiles, as she prepared to get out of the open door of the
cab. "Why, don't you know; pappy, that a leopard cannot change his
spots, or an Etheopian his skin? Take care of the step, pappy! That's
right. Come here, Marie, and give the cabman a hand with this
portmanteau."

Miss White was not grumbling at all--but, on the contrary, was quite
pleasant and cheerful--when she entered the small house and found
herself once more at home.

"Oh, Carry," she said, when her sister followed her into her room; "you
don't know what it is to get back home, after having been bandied from
one hotel to another hotel, and from one lodging-house to another
lodging-house, for goodness knows how long."

"Oh, indeed!" said Miss Carry, with such marked coldness that her sister
turned to her.

"What is the matter with you?"

"What is the matter with _you?_" the younger sister retorted, with
sudden fire. "Do you know that your letters to me have been quite
disgraceful?"

"You are crazed, child--you wrote something about it the other day--I
could not make out what you meant," said Miss White; and she went to the
glass to see that the beautiful brown hair had not been too much
disarranged by the removal of her bonnet.

"It is you are crazed, Gertrude White," said Carry, who had apparently
picked up from some melodrama the notion that it was rather effective to
address a person by her full name. "I am really ashamed of you--that you
should have let yourself be bewitched by a parcel of beasts' skins. I
declare that your ravings about the Highlands, and fairies, and trash of
that sort, have been only fit for a penny journal--"

Miss White turned and stared--as well she might. This indignant person
of fourteen had flashing eyes and a visage of wrath. The pale, calm,
elder sister only remarked, in that deep-toned and gentle voice of hers,

"Your language is pretty considerably strong, Carry. I don't know what
has aroused