"Oh, she has always been that, you know," he said, brightly, "ever since she was a little thing, and I used to carry her about in my arms, and string horse-chestnuts for her, when she was the funniest, merriest little creature, and so clever. I suppose when a man has seven sisters he may be allowed to have a favorite among them? and there is not one of them to compare with Grace." "Seven sisters!" repeated Nan, with a smile; and then she added "you are very lucky, Mr. Drummond." Archie shrugged his shoulders at this: he had never quite recognized his blessings in this respect. Isabel and Dottie might be tolerated, but he could easily have dispensed with Susie and Laura and Clara; he had a knack of forgetting their existence when he was absent from them, and when he was at home he did not always care to be reminded of their presence. He was one of those men who are very exacting to their women-kind, who resent it as a personal injury if they fail in good looks or are not pleasant to the eye. He did not go so far as to say to himself that he could dispense with poor Mattie too, but he certainly acted on most occasions as though he thought so. "Are you not fond of all your sisters?" asked Phillis, rather maliciously, for she had remarked the shrug. "Oh, as to that," replied the young man, coloring a little, "one cannot expect to be interested in a lot of school-girls. I am afraid I know very little about the four youngest, except that they are working Grace to death. Just fancy, Miss Challoner!" he continued, addressing Nan, and quite disregarding Phillis's sympathetic looks. "Grace has actually no life of her own at all; she teaches those girls, sits with them, walks with them, helps them mend their clothes, just like a daily or rather a nursery governess, except that she is not paid, and has no holidays. I cannot think how my mother can find it in her heart to work her so hard!" finished Archie, excited to wrath at the remembrance of Grace's wrongs. "Well, do you know," returned Nan, thoughtfully, as he seemed to expect an answer to this, and Phillis for a wonder was silent, "I cannot think your sister an object of pity. Think what a good and useful life she is leading! She must be a perfect treasure to her mother; and I dare say they all love her dearly." "The girls do," was the somewhat grudging response: "they follow her about like four shadows, and even Isabel can do nothing without her advice. When I am at home I can scarcely get her for a moment to myself; it is 'Grace, come here,' and 'Grace, please do this for me,' until I wonder she is not worn out."