"But we don't know anything about good society, nor society at all. Why is it not nice for Mab to draw? Why is it unladylike?" cried the girl, her eyes sparkling. As for the other one, she shrugged her shoulders, and twirled her pencil, while Miss Brown looked at them with a feeble protestation, clasping her hands in despair. "Oh, Cicely! never anything but why?--why?" she said, with lofty, yet pitying disapproval, "You may be sure it is so when I say it." Then, leaving this high position for the more dangerous exercise of reason. "Besides, the more one thinks of it, the more improper it seems. There are drawings of _gentlemen_ in that book. Is that nice, do you suppose? Gentlemen! Put it away; and, Mabel, I desire you never to do anything so very unladylike again." "But, Miss Brown!" said the younger; "there are a great many gentlemen in the world. I can't help seeing them, can I?" "A young lady who respects herself, and who has been brought up as she ought, never looks at gentlemen. No, you can't help seeing them; but to draw them you must _look_ at them; you must study them. Oh!" said Miss Brown with horror, putting up her hands before her eyes, "never let me hear of such a thing again. Give me the book, Cicely. It is too dreadful. I ought to burn it; but at least I must lock it away." "Don't be afraid, Mab; she shan't have the book," said Cicely, with flashing eyes, stepping back, and holding the volume behind her in her clasped hands. Just then Miss Maydew touched her on the sleeve. "I can't be mistaken," said the old lady; "you are so like your poor mother. Are you not Mr. St. John's daughter? I suppose you don't remember me?" "It is Aunt Jane," whispered Mab in Cicely's ear, getting up with a blush, more conscious of the interruption than her sister was. The artist had the quickest eye. "Yes, it is Aunt Jane; I am glad you recollect," said Miss Maydew. "I have come all the way from town to pay you a visit, and that is not a small matter on such a hot day." "Papa will be very glad to see you," said Cicely, looking up shy but pleased, with a flood of colour rushing over her face under the shade of her big hat. She was doubtful whether she should put up her pretty cheek to kiss the stranger, or wait for that salutation. She put out her hand, which seemed an intermediate measure. "I am Cicely," she said, "and this is Mab; we are very glad to see you, Aunt Jane." Miss Brown got up hastily from under the tree, and made the stranger a curtsy. She gave a troubled glance at the girls' frocks, which were not so fresh as they might have been. "You will excuse their schoolroom dresses," she said, "we were not expecting any one; and it was so fine this morning that I indulged the young ladies, and let them do their work here. Ask your aunt, my dears, to come in."