word, unless she is tempted. That is why I have come to ask you to forbid Monica lending any more to Olive, if she is allowed to read them herself." Lois paused, and Mrs. Beauchamp, after a glance at the title-pages of the books, looked severely at Monica, who had sat perfectly still, with her eyes fixed on Lois, during the recital of Olive’s wrong-doing. "How came you to get books of this description from the library, Monica?" "You never forbade me to, grandmother," murmured the girl, more to gain time than anything else, for she had resolved to make a clean breast of it. "More I did," admitted Mrs. Beauchamp ruefully. "I am afraid I never realised that you would choose this style of literature; I have thought of you as a mere child, still. Oh, dear me, what a terrible responsibility girls are!" And the old lady sighed feebly, and looked at Lois for assistance. "Perhaps Monica will ask your advice in future," was all Lois could say, for she felt she was in a somewhat difficult position. "At any rate, for my mother’s sake, I am sure she will promise not to help Olive to disobey her again." The kind tone was too much for Monica, and she said impulsively: "Oh, Miss Franklyn, I am so awfully sorry! Olive never would have read one if I hadn’t persuaded her to; she knew she ought not. I would give anything, now, not to have lent them to her. Indeed, last time she was here I told her so, and said I was half-inclined not to read any more myself." [Illustration: "’OH, MISS FRANKLYN, I AM SO AWFULLY SORRY!’"] "I don’t know what Mrs. Beauchamp’s opinion may be," said Lois, to whose face Monica’s honest avowal had brought a pleased expression, "but if you took _my_ advice, Monica, you would make up your mind to be _quite_ inclined to let them severely alone, for the next few years, at all events." "I will," Monica replied, without hesitation; the reality in her tones betokening steadfastness of purpose. "I am very glad," said Lois, and there was distinct approval in the expressive glance her grey eyes flashed on Monica, as she rose. "I will tell Olive of your resolve, and it will help her to be true to her promise." Mrs. Beauchamp, looking alternately from one to the other, as the conversation seemed to be carried on without her help, suddenly realised that the question was settled, and she had no battle to fight with Monica. She could not help thinking how differently she would have gone to work, and how unsuccessful she would, in all probability, have been. "I am sure, Miss Franklyn, I hope that your mother will accept my apologies for all this trouble. There seems no end to the anxiety my granddaughter causes every one!" "It _was_ an anxiety to her, I must confess," said Lois, "but now that Olive has told her everything, she feels easier about it. She has such an abhorrence of anything approaching deceit." "Of course," murmured Mrs. Beauchamp. "Can Olive come to tea to-morrow, grandmother?" Monica’s face was pleading.