“Oh, indeed! You know she didn't tell me that, now did she.” “Perhaps not.” “No, by Jove, she didn't. But she has lived all her life in England?” “Yes--in England and France.” “Your niece, I think you said.” I had said it, unfortunately, and it could not be unsaid now without many explanations. So I nodded. “She doesn't--er--behave like an American. She hasn't the American manner, I mean to say. Now Miss Cahoon has--er--she has--” “Miss Cahoon's manner is American. So is mine; we ARE Americans, you see.” “Yes, yes, of course,” hastily. “When are you and I to have the nine holes you promised, Knowles?” One fine afternoon the invalid came downstairs. The “between-maid” had arranged chairs and the table on the lawn. We were to have tea there; we had tea every day, of course--were getting quite accustomed to it. Frances--I may as well begin calling her that--looked in better health then than at any time since our meeting. She was becomingly, although simply gowned, and there was a dash of color in her cheeks. Hephzibah escorted her to the tea table. I rose to meet them. “Frank--Frances, I mean--is goin' to join us to-day,” said Hephzy. “She's beginnin' to look real well again, isn't she.” I said she was. Frances nodded to me and took one of the chairs, the most comfortable one. She appeared perfectly self-possessed, which I was sure I did not. I was embarrassed, of course. Each time I met the girl the impossible situation in which she had placed us became more impossible, to my mind. And the question, “What on earth shall we do with her?” more insistent. Hephzy poured the tea. Frances, cup in hand, looked about her. “This is rather a nice place, after all,” she observed, “isn't it.” “It's a real lovely place,” declared Hephzy with enthusiasm. The young lady cast another appraising glance at our surroundings. “Yes,” she repeated, “it's a jolly old house and the grounds are not bad at all.” Her tone nettled me. Everything considered I thought she might have shown a little more enthusiasm. “I infer that you expected something much worse,” I observed. “Oh, of course I didn't know what to expect. How should I? I had no hand in selecting it, you know.” “She's hardly seen it,” put in Hephzy. “She was too sick when she came to notice much, I guess, and this is the first time she has been out doors.” “I am glad you approve,” I observed, drily. My sarcasm was wasted. Miss Morley said again that she did approve, of what she had seen, and added that we seemed to have chosen very well. “I don't suppose,” said Hephzy, complacently, “that there are many much prettier places in England than this one.” “Oh, indeed there are. But all England is beautiful, of course.” I thought of Mrs. Briggs' lodging-house, but I did not refer to it. Our guest--or my “niece”--or our ward--it was hard to classify her--changed the subject. “Have you met any of the people about here?” she asked.