“Show her up, Corbett,” said Mrs. Abercarne. And turning to Chris, she said: “You would like to see her, my dear, wouldn’t you?” “Yes,” said Chris. The two girls, indeed, had felt a mutual attraction, and had only been prevented by the fierce enmity which raged between their respective mothers from becoming very good friends indeed. When Lilith came in, smiling, bright-eyed, cheery, and suffering from a valiant attempt to subdue her usual exuberance of voice and manner, her entrance was like a ray of sunshine. She came to the side of the sofa on tip-toe, which was quite unnecessary, and caused her to be so unsteady of gait that she knocked over a basket of flowers which had been placed on a little stand beside the sofa. “Oh, look what I’ve done!” she cried, as she stooped down in haste to repair the mischief. “Oh, you needn’t trouble about those things!” cried Chris, ungratefully, with a little look which girls’ freemasonry enabled Lilith to understand. Miss Graham-Shute’s big brown eyes grew round with delight at the prospect of a little bit of interesting gossip, if they should get a chance to be alone together. She nodded discreetly, as she went down on her knees to rearrange the scattered daffodils and lilies of the valley. “I’m such a clumsy creature!” cried she, in feigned distress. “Donald always says I’m like a bull in a china shop. Oh!” she cried, as she buried her little _retroussé_ nose in a bunch of Parma violets, “I should like to be ill if I could get such attentions bestowed upon me! You _are_ a lucky girl, Chris! And an ungrateful one too!” she added in a lower voice, with a glance at Mrs. Abercarne, whose back was for the moment turned. “You can have the flowers, if you like,” said Chris quickly. “Yes, do take them,” she added, eagerly as Lilith made a gesture of refusal, “I shall be so glad if you will. They--they are too strongly scented,” she added, as an excuse, as she noticed a look of pain and annoyance on her mother’s face. “Oh, well, they are not too strongly scented for me,” said Lilith, drily. “Thank you awfully, dear. I’ll be sure to remember to bring back the basket.” “No, don’t; keep it, I don’t want to see any of it again.” She spoke petulantly, for the handsome gift had been accompanied by a message from Mr. Bradfield, almost demanding permission to see her. Then Mrs. Abercarne, moved to wrath, spoke: “I think you are very ungrateful, Chris. Those flowers were sent from Covent Garden expressly for you, and at great expense.” She was not unwilling to annoy the Graham-Shutes, by proving in what high estimation “the Abercarnes” were held at Wyngham House. “Chris, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, you really ought,” said Lilith, gaily, as she got up from her knees. “Now, don’t let me knock anything else over. You haven’t any silver tables, or anything of that sort, luckily.”