"I will help you till Hortense comes," she said. "You really must hurry, Elsie. It is not as if your father were coming alone; he will expect you to be ready to greet Marjorie." Elsie shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "As if a girl who has been living on a cattle ranch in Arizona would care whether I were dressed or not," she said. "Probably where she comes from people wear kimonos all day long, and never even heard of dressing for the evening." Mrs. Carleton sighed, and the worried expression deepened in her blue eyes. "I really wish, darling, that you would try to be a little more gracious about this. Of course it is a trial, but your father has made up his mind that Marjorie shall spend the winter with us, and it isn't going to make things any pleasanter to be constantly finding fault about them." "I wasn't finding fault," retorted Elsie, who had by this time taken off the kimono, and begun brushing out her long hair. "I only said Marjorie Graham wouldn't care a fig what I had on, and I don't believe she will. I don't intend to be disagreeable to her, but you know what an awful nuisance it's going to be, and how I hate it. Think of having to take her about everywhere with me, and introduce her to all my friends." "My dear, she is your own first cousin. Besides, I am sure she is a nice child--your father speaks so affectionately of her in his letters--and her mother is a lovely woman. I was very fond of her when we were girls together." "Oh, I dare say she is all right," Elsie admitted grudgingly, "but that doesn't alter the fact of its being an awful bother to have her here for a whole winter. You know how papa fusses. He will be sure to get some idea in his head about my not paying Marjorie enough attention, and he will expect me to take her everywhere. Oh, I hate it, I just hate it!" And Elsie's voice actually trembled with vexation. Mrs. Carleton sighed again. "I am very sorry, dear," she began, but the entrance of the maid at this moment, put an end to the conversation, and she left the room, with a final admonition to her daughter to hurry as much as possible. But alas! it was too late for hurrying. Mrs. Carleton had only just entered the drawing-room, when she heard a key turned in the outer door of the apartment, followed by the sound of a familiar voice calling cheerfully-- "Julia, Elsie, where are you? Here we are, safe and sound!" With a rapidly beating heart Mrs. Carleton hurried forward to greet her husband and his niece. "My dear Henry, your train must have been just on time," she exclaimed rather nervously. "We had scarcely begun to expect you yet. And so this is Marjorie. I am very glad to see you, dear; I hope you are not quite worn out after that dreadful journey." "I am not the very least bit tired," returned a fresh young voice, and Marjorie returned her aunt's kiss so heartily that Mrs. Carleton was rather startled.