gh one's whole duty were to amuse
one's self. Father always says, 'Whatever you do, do it
thoroughly,' and I am carrying out his maxim to the letter, for
I do nothing but enjoy myself, and I do it thoroughly. On
Monday I finished my letter to Crissy before breakfast, and
afterward, as Edna was busy, I spent a long morning reading 'The
Village on the Cliff.' I have finished it now, and think it
lovely. I do enjoy these mornings in the garden; but I must not
read too many stories, only Edna says I shall like 'Old
Kensington,' and I must indulge myself with that. I assure you
we make quite a picture. Mac lies at my feet, and Spot generally
curls himself up on my lap. Tim prefers lying on the lawn and
keeping an eye upon the kitten. She is such a droll little
creature, and her antics quite distract me.

"Well, I had this delicious morning to myself, and in the
afternoon we played tennis at the Athertons'. There were no
visitors, but we girls played by ourselves, and I had a long
talk with Grace Donnerton. I liked her better than ever; but
just as she was talking to me about her sister's hospital, Maud
Atherton disturbed us by telling us tea was ready.

"The next morning Edna drove me over to Kimberley--such a lovely
drive; and the ponies were so frisky and went so well. We called
at a beautiful old house, called Kimberley Hall--I never saw
such a place--and had luncheon there. Mrs. Blondell, our
hostess, is such a dear old lady, with pretty white curls, and
such a sweet old face. Her husband is such a handsome old man;
but he is quite deaf, and no one seems to make him hear anything
except his wife, and she goes up and speaks to him in a low,
distinct voice, and tells him things, and he brightens up at
once. He is such a courtly old man, and pays little
old-fashioned compliments. He took Edna's hand and said, 'We do
not often see a pretty young face, my dear, but it is a very
pleasant sight. I remember your mother when she was a girl, and
a fine, handsome creature she was. I think her daughter does her
credit, eh, Dolly?' And Dolly--that is the dear old lady's
name--put her pretty old hand on his arm, and said, 'She does
indeed, Rupert, and she has got a look of our Maisie about her;'
and then they looked at each other in such a way.

"Edna explained it to me as we drove