"He, he!" exclaimed the younger girls. "Now, there you are off again, and all three of you this time!" "It's Captain Bertram, ma'am," began Matty. "Captain Bertram!" echoed Alice. "Bertram," sighed Sophy. "He says," continued Matty, "that we are all alike, and he doesn't know one from the other, and we are trying to puzzle him. It is such delicious fun." "Delicious fun!" said Alice. "Fun!" gasped Sophy, through her peals of mirth. "Now," continued Alice, "he shall begin again. He shall go through his catechism. Here we three stand in a row. Which is Matty, which is Alice, which is Sophy?" Captain Bertram pulled his mustache, swept his dark eyes over the little eager palpitating group, and in a languid tone pronounced the wrong one to be Matty. The cackling rose to a shriek. "You shall pay a forfeit, you bad man," said the real Matty. She shook her little fat finger at him. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Meadowsweet, he really shall--he _must_. This really is too sweetly delicious,--fancy his not knowing me from Alice--I call it ungallant. Now what shall the forfeit be, Alice and Sophy. Let's put our fingers on our lips and think." "He shall tell us," exclaims Alice, "he shall describe at full length his--" She looked at her sisters. "His first battle," prompted Matty. "No, no, better than that, better than that--" came from Sophy's girlish lips. "Captain Bertram shall tell us about his--his first love." It may have been rude, but at this remark Captain Bertram not only changed color but turned in a very marked way from the Misses Bell, and devoted himself to his hostess. He was attacked by a complaint somewhat in vogue in high life--he had a sudden fit of convenient deafness. He said a few words in a cold voice to Mrs. Meadowsweet, crushed the little Bells by his icy manner, and took the first opportunity of finding more congenial society. An eager game of tennis was going on, and Beatrice, who did not play, stood by to watch. Northbury was accustomed to Beatrice, and did not therefore observe, what was very patent to Captain Bertram, that this girl was as perfectly well-bred as his own sisters. She wore a long, gray cashmere dress, slightly open at her throat, with ruffles of soft, real lace. As she watched the game, her sensitive and speaking face showed interest, sympathy, keen appreciation. She heard Captain Bertram's step, and turned to welcome him with a smile. "Would not you like to play?" "Will you be my partner?" "When they make up a fresh set I will, with pleasure; although," she added, looking down at her long dress, "I did not expect to play to-night, and did not dress for it." "Thank goodness. I hate tennis dresses. All girls should wear trains." Beatrice raised her bright eyes to his face. Their open expression said plainly, "It is a matter of indifference to me what you think about my dress." Aloud she said: "What have you done with my friends, the Bells?"