They were both taller than Dora, slim, graceful creatures. Beatrix was the handsomer of the two, with lively dark eyes and an expression of great animation. Flo was plainer, with an odd, piquante face and fair hair like Dora's, which she wore cropped and curly like a boy's. "Poor Flo has lost all her beautiful hair," observed her sister, passing her hand regretfully over the curls. "Is she not grown? and Beattie too? They make me look such a little thing beside them." "Beatrix has grown such a fashionable young lady that I shall be half afraid of her," returned Garth, looking at the girl with kindly interest. Beatrix's dark eyes shone with pleasure as she answered his smile. The two had been great friends in old times, and many a game of romps had been enacted by them in the Vicarage hall and garden. He had always cared less about Flo, who was somewhat spoiled by her sister, and was in consequence rather pert and precocious. He had ever taken a mischievous delight in snubbing her, or putting her down, as he called it; but Flo was grown up now, and wore long dresses, and had the languid air of a _ci-devant_ invalid, and the snubbing must now be a thing of the past. Garth and Beatrix had so much to say to each other that Dora at last grew dissatisfied, and bid him, with playful peremptoriness, break off his chatter and get ready for dinner. And then he took himself off rather reluctantly to the porch-room, where he found nurse coaxing his fire to a cheerful blaze. "Isn't Miss Dora looking lovely to-night?" exclaimed the old woman when she caught sight of him; "for all the world like a picture, in her velvet gown. I do think she is the prettiest creature in the county." "I think Miss Beatrix will be far handsomer," returned Garth, with a little spice of malice and contradiction in his voice. "She will play havoc with a few hearts before many years are over, take my word for it." "Miss Beatrix!" in a tone of shrill scorn. "Dear heart, just to think of comparing her with our Miss Dora! But you young gentlemen will be poking your fun at an old woman. Miss Beatrix indeed!" "My fire is burning nicely now, Nurse," observed Garth rather hastily. "If you make me too comfortable I shall be afraid of coming here." "There's some folks would like to see you come oftener, sir; but it is not for me to tell young ladies' secrets," and then nurse dropped her ancient curtsey and took her comely old person out of the room, while Garth, with a shrug and sigh, proceeded to dress himself. "Oh, my golden-haired Circe!" was his inward ejaculation, and then he wondered how Queenie would look in a velvet gown with some of that fine old lace round her long white throat. "She can have no end of that sort of thing now," he said to himself.