"Self-sacrifice, without limits and without common-sense, remind one of the Suttee and the car of Juggernaut. When one is speaking generally it is a pity to particularize. At present I have too much on my hands to trouble about my future. There are the girls, and Flo is always in scrapes, and wanting me," finished Dora, in a quiet, matter-of-fact way. "But Flo is nearly sixteen!" "Yes, and Beatrix is seventeen. I mean Beatrix to remain at Brussels another year, in spite of papa and nurse; she is young for her age, and is far too shy and unformed to bring out at present; Flo has much more in her. But I did not come over here to talk about the girls and myself," continued Dora frankly; "they are good girls of course, but they are much more trouble than if they had been boys. I wanted a chat with Miss Marriott, and to hear all about this school business. I have had to do with schools all my life, you know," turning to Queenie; "and we have a charming place for our mistress at Crossgill. I have all sorts of ideas in my head, and shall be able to help you," ran on Dora, in a brisk, business-like way that almost took away Queenie's breath. "You are very kind," she began, hesitatingly, and then she stopped. What business was it of Miss Cunningham's? why need she brook patronage from a girl so little older than herself, and a perfect stranger? But Dora misconstrued her momentary hesitation. "Oh, you need not mind troubling me, I take interest in all sorts of people and things. Papa calls it interference, but I know better. Most people content themselves with their own little sphere of duty, and don't trouble themselves beyond it, but every one is welcome to my advice or assistance." An inexplicable smile crossed Garth's face, but he made no remark. A close observer might have said that he was watching the two faces before him, with a view to comparison. Dora made a pretty picture as she leant back in her low basket-chair, with her sunny hair, and the roses fastened in her blue cambric. Queenie looked a little sombre and shadowy beside her in her brown dress. Her eyes were down-cast; she looked disturbed and ill-at-ease; she had lost something of the brightness and independence that were her chief charms. "I don't like talking about myself and my own affairs," she said, with natural reserve; but somehow it sounded ungracious in her own ears. Miss Cunningham was an old friend of the family; perhaps she was wrong in treating her like a stranger; but Dora was not repulsed by her coldness. "I dare say you feel a little proud about it; I should in your position," with a patronizing kindness that made Queenie's cheeks burn. "Miss Drake was such a very different person, quite common-place and ordinary. I think she was a small tradesman's daughter. It must be difficult to fit yourself to such a position, to come down to it with dignity." But Queenie would hear no more.