"Doris, I am ashamed of you." "What odds does that make, so long as I am not ashamed of myself?" "But you will not act in that way with Earle?" "Why won't I? Are you afraid of losing him?" "He doesn't belong to me," said Mattie, blushing. "How soon am I likely to see him?" demanded Doris. "To-morrow. Every day. His mother wants him to be a farmer. She manages Lindenholm now, and sends him to take farming lessons of father. Father thinks everything of Earle, and so does mother." "A farmer! The game is not worth the candle. I wouldn't be a farmer's wife for anything. I loathe being a farmer's daughter." "I don't," said Mattie, with spirit. "I'm proud of my home, my honest race, my good, sweet mother, my dear father." "How queer!" said Doris, meditatively. "Now, I couldn't see anything to be proud of in all _that_. I should be proud of a coach and grays, and men in livery--of suits of jewels, of a French maid, of velvet, satin, lace, brocade dresses." "Doris," said Mattie, anxiously, "_have_ you any soul?" "Soul? If we cannot live without one, and soul makes the heart go, I suppose I have; otherwise, I don't feel aware of the property you mention." "I believe you are only jesting, to tease me. You were always brighter than I am, and a real rogue. You have higher ideas and better intentions and wishes than you say." "No, really I haven't--not one bit." "Why, then," said poor Mattie, deeply distressed, "it must be your moral nature that is lacking." "_Moral nature?_ That's just it," said Doris, with infinite satisfaction. "Moral nature--I haven't any. I think all the nature I have must be immoral; I always side with the sinners in all stories." Mattie had finished arranging the pretty little room. Doris jumped from her place on the bed. "Really you have made it look very well, considering what you have to do it with. A sort of household fairy, you, Mattie; your name should be Brownie. Now we will play you are my maid. I am going to bed, and I like to have my hair brushed a long time. It is good for my nerves, and good for my hair. Will you be my maid?" "With great pleasure," said Mattie, letting down the golden flood of Doris' silken hair. "How beautiful it is!" "I think I am beautiful every way," said Doris, calmly. "You are, indeed," said Mattie, without the least envy. "Your hair will not brush straight! It is all in wavy clusters." "You will brush it every night, and then I shall like you." "Surely I will brush it, when you wish. But I like you in all cases," said Mattie. "And I want you to be good, dear." "And not flirt with Earle Moray? Or other men? I'll not promise that. Flirting is my nature. I will flirt with this Earle until he puts his heart in my hands, and I will crush it up _so_--as I do this rosebud--and drop it--_so_! You watch and see how it is done, Mattie." Tears rushed to Mattie's eyes. She hurriedly left the room.