"Oh, as to that, I like her well enough," she returned, a little coolly; "she is in good style and lady-like, only far too impulsive for my taste. She reminds me of Flo, and you know I always find Flo rather troublesome." "I know your conduct to your sisters is perfectly admirable," was the answer. "You have been a mother to them in every sense of the word. Why Flo perfectly adores you, Dora." "I am used to being adored," she returned quietly. It had not escaped her notice that he had gone back to his old habit, and called her Dora; she rather liked it than otherwise. It was very pleasant lingering by the little gate in the sunset. She was quite aware how pretty a picture she made, with her uncovered hair, and the roses in the blue cambric. Garth, tall and dark, and in his grey working suit, made a splendid foil to her. "Shall we take a turn on the terrace?" he asked in a low voice, unlatching the little gate as he spoke; but Dora shook her head. It would be very pleasant wandering there in the sunset with Garth Clayton; but then there were the girls, and Flo not sixteen yet. Things were progressing certainly, but perhaps, under the circumstances, it would not be wise to expedite matters. Her sisters must be introduced into society, and Beatrix must be trained to take her position at Crossgill Vicarage before she could turn her attentions to such things. There must be no loitering in the sunset just now; men were impressionable, and well, perhaps Garth's manner was a little different to-day; he certainly looked a little disconsolate over her refusal. "I shall gather you some roses before you go; you won't refuse them I hope, Dora," he returned, somewhat discontentedly. "Yes, you may gather me some; but you must not call me Dora, please. It is a great pity, but we are not children now, and people will talk." "Let them talk," returned Garth, now really provoked. He was very proud, and this repulse did not suit him. The sunset was inviting, and the shining little head beside him seemed to draw him with golden meshes. He was half serious and half jesting, but the mood and the hour had a certain sweetness not to be lightly lost; but if she chose to repulse him, well, it had not gone very far, and on the whole he preferred his freedom; but here Dora was looking at him pathetically with her blue eyes. "Are you cross with me? one cannot always please one's self. Papa will want me; and one has so many duties," sighed the young diplomatist, "and cannot choose one's pleasures," looking at him slyly, but with a certain softness. "No; you are very good. I suppose I am like other men, and want my own way. Do you think if you had more to do with me that you could cure me, Dora?"