'It's rather a jolly night, Miss Pomeroy,' I said, 'not at all cold.' 'Isn't it?' she asked, and came to the door. 'There's a comfortable seat here,' I added, 'and the verandah keeps off the wind from the moor.' She came out. It was quite dark, for the sky was cloudy and there was no moon, but there was a splash of light where we sat, from the hall window, so that I could see Miss Virginia and she could see me. She was dressed in a very pretty frock, all pink and white, and I have certainly now come round to the artist's opinion that she is an uncommonly pretty girl; not that I care for pretty girls,--of course they are the worst kind, and I have always avoided them so far. 'Well,' said Miss Virginia, 'you've done a fairly good day's work, I should think, and can go to bed with an easy conscience and sleep the sleep of the just!' 'Why, particularly?' I inquired bashfully. 'Why?' cried Miss Virginia. 'Haven't you rescued Age and Scotland from a cruel death? I suppose it didn't matter to you what became of Youth and America. But I forgive you, you managed the other so well.' I couldn't help laughing and getting rather red, and Miss Virginia gave me a wicked look out of her black eyes. 'Why, Miss Pomeroy,' I said in a confused way, 'don't you see how it was? I argued to myself you had your own legs to save yourself on, while'-- But here Miss Virginia jumped up with a little scream. 'We don't talk about legs that way, where I come from!' she said, but I saw she was not really shocked, only laughing, with the rum little dimples coming out in her cheeks. 'Won't you shake hands again,' I suggested, 'to show you have quite forgiven me?' Miss Virginia's hand was in mine, I was holding it, when who should come to the door and look out but Mrs. MacGill. 'I think it is very cold and damp for you to be out at this hour, Miss Pomeroy,' she remarked pointedly. 'Well, I suppose it is, Mrs. MacGill,' said Miss Virginia, as cool as you please, lifting up the long tail of her dress and making a little face at me over her shoulder. Mrs. MacGill gave a loud sniff and never budged till Miss Virginia was safely inside. The old harridan--I'll teach her a lesson if she doesn't mend her manners! CECILIA EVESHAM _Friday evening_ Here I was interrupted, and now something new has happened that requires telling, so I'll skip our adventures of Thursday afternoon, and go on to Friday.... Well, this morning I came down to breakfast, almost blind with neuralgia. I struggled on till luncheon, when it became unbearable. Virginia (I call her that already) looked at me in the kindest way during the meal. 'You're ill,' she said. 'You need putting to bed.' Mrs. MacGill looked surprised. 'Cecilia is never very ill,' she observed tepidly. 'She's ill now, no mistake,' Virginia persisted, and rose and came round to my side of the table. 'Come and let me help you upstairs and put you to bed.'