"Mrs. Powell and her daughter to see Miss Estelle and Miss Edna." "Why did you not say we were at dinner?" cried Mrs. Murray, impatiently, darting an angry glance at the servant. "I did, ma'am, but they said they would wait." As Estelle folded up her napkin and slipped it into the silver ring, she looked furtively at St. Elmo, who, holding up a bunch of purple grapes, said in an indifferent tone to his mother: "The vineyards of Axarquia show nothing more perfect. This cluster might challenge comparison with those from which Red Hermitage is made, and the seeds of which are said to have been brought from Schiraz. Even on the sunny slopes of Cyprus and Naxos I found no finer grapes than these. A propos! I want a basketful this afternoon. Henry, tell old Simon to gather them immediately." "Pray what use have you for them? I am sure the courteous idea of sending them as a present never could have forced an entrance into your mind, much less have carried the outworks of your heart!" As his cousin spoke she came to the back of his chair and leaned over his shoulder. "I shall go out on the terrace and renew the obsolete Dionysia, shouting 'Evoe! Eleleus!' I shall crown and pelt my marble Bacchus yonder with the grapes till his dainty sculptured limbs are bathed in their purple sacrificial blood. What other use could I possibly have for them?" He threw his head back and added something in a lower tone, at which Estelle laughed, and put up her red, full lip. Mrs. Murray frowned, and said sternly: "If you intend to see those persons, I advise you to do so promptly." Her niece moved toward the door, but glanced over her shoulder. "I presume Gertrude expects to see Edna, as she asked for her." The orphan had been watching Mr. Murray's face, but could detect no alteration in its expression, save a brief gleam as of triumph when the visitors were announced. Rising, she approached Mrs. Murray, whose clouded brow betokened more than ordinary displeasure, and whispered: "Gertrude is exceedingly anxious to see the house and grounds; have I your permission to show her over the place? She is particularly anxious to see the deer." "Of course, if she requests it; but their effrontery in coming here caps the climax of all the impudence I ever heard of. Have as little to say as possible." Edna went to the parlor, leaving mother and son together. Mrs. Powell had laid aside her mourning garments and wore a dress of blue muslin which heightened her beauty, and as the orphan looked from her to Gertrude she found it difficult to decide who was the loveliest. After a few desultory remarks she rose, saying: "As you have repeatedly expressed a desire to examine the park and hothouses, I will show you the way this afternoon." "Take care, my love, that you do not fatigue yourself," were Mrs. Powell's low, tenderly spoken words as her daughter rose to leave the room.