prospect of playing second fiddle to this strange girl was by no means pleasant. Peggy tilted her chin, and spoke in a cool, cynical tone. "What is she like, this wonderful Rosalind? Bob does not seem to think her extraordinary. I cannot imagine a `Miss Robert' being very beautiful, and as she is his sister, I suppose they are alike." Instantly there arose a duet of protests. "Not in the least. Not a single bit. Rosalind is lovely! Blue eyes, golden hair--" "Down past her waist--" "The sweetest little hands--" "A real diamond ring--" "Pink cheeks--" "Drives a pony-carriage, with long-tailed ponies--" "Speaks French all day long with her governess--jabber, jabber, jabber, as quick as that--just like a native--" "Plays the violin--" "Has a lovely little sitting-room of her own, simply crammed with the most exquisite presents and books, and goes travelling abroad to France and Italy and hot places in winter. Lord and Lady Darcy simply worship her, and so does everyone, for she is as beautiful as a picture. Don't you think it would be lovely to have a lord and lady for your father and mother?" Peggy sniffed the air in scornful superiority. "I am very glad I've not! Titles are so ostentatious! Vulgar, I call them! The very best families will have nothing to do with them. My father's people were all at the Crusades, and the Wars of the Roses, and the Field of the Cloth of Gold. There is no older family in England, and they are called `Fighting Savilles,' because they are always in the front of every battle, winning honours and distinctions. I expect they have been offered titles over and over again, but they would not have them. They refused them with scorn, and so would I if one were offered to me. Nothing would induce me to accept it!" Esther rolled her eyes in a comical, sideway fashion, and gave a little chuckle of unbelief; but Mellicent looked quite depressed by this reception of her grand news, and said anxiously-- "But, Peggy, think of it! The Honourable Mariquita! It would be too lovely! Wouldn't you feel proud writing it in visitors' books, and seeing it printed in newspapers when you grow up? `The Honourable Mariquita wore a robe of white satin, trimmed with gold!'" "Peggy Saville is good enough for me, thank you," said that young lady, with a sudden access of humility. "I have no wish to have my clothes discussed in the public prints. But if you are invited to the Larches to play with your Rosalind, pray don't consider me! I can stay at home alone. I don't mind being dull. I can turn my time to good account. Not for the world would I interfere with your pleasure?"