Sudden tears came quite unexpectedly into Sheila’s eyes. She looked down that Ronald might not see them. “I don’t think I have a home exactly—now,” she said. He looked at her quickly, a flash in his eyes. “But surely your home is with your uncle and aunt?” “Yes,” answered Sheila a little unsteadily, “in a way it is, but sometimes it doesn’t seem quite a real home.” A tear plashed down, but Sheila turned her head away, and then looked back with a brave smile. “I oughtn’t to say that, perhaps. It sounds ungrateful, but, of course, it can’t be the same as one’s own house, and last Christmas we were so happy, and I never thought of things changing like this!” Ronald, of course, knew all Sheila’s story by this time. He looked the sympathy he felt. “I know, I know. It must have been very hard! But you are happy with your relations, are you not?” “Y—yes,” answered Sheila a little doubtfully, adding after a brief pause; “only sometimes I think my aunt doesn’t much like me now.” “Oh, don’t think that! Everybody has ups and downs, you know. We all of us have our cross days.” “You don’t,” answered Sheila, “nor Miss Adene, nor any of you! But Aunt Cossart is sometimes very glum and cross with me.” There was a little gleam in Ronald’s eyes. It is a known fact that lookers on sometimes see most of the game, and it had not been unnoticed by the Dumaresq party that Sheila was rather out of favour with her aunt. They could see the reason plain enough. The hotel was filling up now, and still Sheila held her place as the favourite, and small notice comparatively was bestowed upon Effie. There was no blinking the matter that Effie bored people. Her sprightliness was not of an engaging kind, it had a contradictious defiance about it that was irritating, and her shallow theories and self-centred way of looking at life made her conversation monotonous and tiresome. When she allowed herself to forget herself, she could be much more agreeable; but generally she could not get away from herself, and the result was disastrous for herself. Some other young girls had come, and Sheila would romp up and down the house with them, leading them into fun and frolic, teaching them the Washington Post up and down corridors or verandah, throwing herself into games of which she was the life and soul, and in which Ronald was always an able assistant, and in a hundred little ways making life merry for herself and others, whilst Effie never seemed able to amalgamate in the merry crowd.