"Of course not," interrupted her friend, indignantly. "Miss Faith is very nice, but she is old for her age. You see, youth has been crushed out of her. She would make a nice Sister of Charity; the dress would just suit her. I like her pale creamy complexion; but she is far, far too old for your brother," finished Queenie, to whom the idea was somehow repugnant. Miss Faith, with her soft plaintive voice and little close bonnet, beside the strong vigorous man, still in the glory of his youth! Queenie's ideas were very vague on the subject, but she thought the woman that Garth Clayton honored with his preference ought to be very nice indeed. "Are you nearly through D'Aubigné's 'Reformation,' Miss Faith?" Cathy would ask her, a little wickedly, on these occasions. Miss Faith would answer her quite seriously; she did not perfectly comprehend a joke. Poor woman, the little pleasantries of life, the fun and drollery of young wits, were almost unknown to her. "We are still in the third volume," she would sigh; "it is hard reading for summer days, but it suits Cara. Hope quite enjoys it too, but it is a treat to sit out here and listen to the birds, and do nothing but work and talk. I think I almost dislike books, though I should not like Cara to hear me; but then I never was clever." "I think you would like the interesting sort," returned Langley simply. "Do you remember how much you cared for the volume of Jean Ingelow's poems that I lent you? you told me you cried over the 'Song of Seven.'" "Oh yes, I love poetry," brightening visibly; "but I could not make Cara interested in it in the least; she calls it moonshine and milk and water." "That comes of having a strong-minded woman for a sister," interrupted Cathy, who never liked to be long silent. "My dear, Cara is very strong-minded; she is always talking about my having no mental backbone. She says if we do not exercise our mind, drill it thoroughly, and put it through a course of mental calisthenics, that we shall never keep it in a healthy condition. She thinks it a waste of time to read novels, unless they are Sir Walter Scott's or Miss Austin's. I know it is very bad taste, but I never could admire Miss Austin." "But you enjoyed 'Dombey and Son,'" interposed Garth, who abhorred strong-minded women, and could not tolerate Miss Charity; hearing her opinions quoted even upset his equanimity. "Never mind what Cara likes; we are each bound to have our own individual taste. If Langley likes pickles better than strawberry jam she has no right to prevent Cathy from feasting on the latter dainty. I hate rules and regulations for grown-up people; it is just as though we want to bring back the swaddling clothes of infancy."