"I am afraid I am not fond of rules, and I do like poetry and novels," returned Miss Faith timidly. Here amongst these young people she felt a different creature; their ideas were as fresh and sweet to her as Garth's roses that she had fastened in her belt. "I must go now; but you have done me so much good, you always do," she said presently as she rose. Garth pleaded hard that she would stay, but she only shook her head at him wistfully. "No, don't tempt me; Cara would be disappointed when she woke up from her afternoon nap if she found I had not returned; it is not nice to disappoint people, and then her pain might come on again." "At least you might promise to drive over with us to Crossgill to-morrow; we are going to introduce Miss Marriott to the Cunninghams. Langley cannot go, and there will be a spare place in the waggonette." But Miss Faith would not promise. Two afternoons of pleasure would be unheard-of dissipation; she would never hear the last of it; and what would Cara do without her reading? "As though we cared about that," muttered Garth, _sotto voce_; and then, as he returned from unlatching the little side gate, he paused a moment by Queenie. "There goes one of life's unsolved enigmas--a good woman thrown away on a selfish one. I know you agree with me, Miss Marriott; I can read it in your face." Queenie gave him a bright, understanding smile. She had just finished a most artistic-looking patch in an old frock of Emmie's, and held it up in critical approval. "When people are so good they can hardly fail to be happy," she said with slightly qualified assent. Somehow she did not pity Miss Faith quite so much this afternoon; it was a little contrary of her perhaps, but then, had she not gone away with Garth's roses in her belt? and had he not called her his patron saint, and hinted that she was necessary to him, to them all? Queenie felt that even Miss Faith's life was not quite devoid of all sweetness when such speeches as these were made to her. Garth had not sufficient vanity to guess at these thoughts, but he seemed quite disposed to linger by Queenie's side and argue out the matter. He had been quite absorbed by Miss Faith's conversation while she remained; and now it would be refreshing to turn to Queenie. It did not occur to him to pick roses for her, but he stood beside her, and watched her deft fingers move swiftly over her work, with a lazy sort of pleasure. "No one could doubt her goodness," he went on, taking up the thread of his argument; "the question is, is she quite right to give up her own will so entirely to her sister? One may be good and self-sacrificing, and yet preserve one's individuality." "I think she is not quite sufficiently strong-minded."