and brought back the past too
vividly. Bessie glanced at her anxiously. Certainly, Edna's looks
verified her words. Mr. Sinclair would read the truth for himself. They
had arrived at the Pavilion now, and Mrs. Sefton and Edna were already
exchanging greetings with their friends.

"Does it not look like a picture of Vanity Fair?" she whispered, when
they at last made their way into the bazaar.

Well, it was a curious sight, certainly; a young man with powdered hair,
in a blue velvet coat, offered them programmes of the entertainment; a
little Moorish girl, with a necklace of gold coins, showed them her
flower-basket, and a stately Queen Elizabeth smiled at Edna across the
counter. A harlequin and a cavalier mounted guard over the post-office,
and a gypsy presided over a fish pond. Mary Stuart and a Greek lady were
in charge of the refreshment stall. It was a relief when the band struck
up one of Strauss' waltzes, and drowned the din of voices; but as the
sad, sweet strains of "Verliebt und Verloren" floated through the room,
a pained expression crossed Edna's face.

A moment later Bessie felt her arm grasped, and Edna whispered
excitedly:

"Look, Bessie; is it my fancy--that gentleman standing by the
flower-stall--is it----"

"Yes, it is Mr. Sinclair," returned Bessie calmly. "Oh, he sees us now;
he is coming to speak to us. Dear Edna, please don't look so pale over
it; you surely do not mind seeing him."

But Edna was beyond answering; there was not an atom of color in her
face as Mr. Sinclair came up to them and lifted his hat.

It was very odd that just at that minute Bessie was seized with an
uncontrollable longing to become the possessor of a Japanese fan. It was
excessively dear and excessively ugly, and the young person in the
Catherine de Medicis ruff who was in charge of that part of the stall
was otherwise engaged; nevertheless, Bessie would not give up her point.
Mrs. Sefton was on the other side of the room, talking to Lady Hampton;
and though it was clearly Bessie's duty to remain with Edna, she was
perfectly blind to the fact; she did not even wait to greet Mr.
Sinclair, but turned her back on him in the rudest manner, and kept her
eyes on the gaudy specimen of Japanese art.

It was ten minutes before the coveted article was in her possession, and
even then the stall seemed to fascinate her, and she was just making up
her mind that a certain little blue vase would please Christine when
Mrs. Sefton