Miss Macleod made no effort to detain her. She understood young people too well to try to force them into friendliness, and, as I have said, she had already made a tolerably shrewd guess as to the true state of the case. Taking up her knitting, she continued her chat with Mrs. Desmond in spite of the latter's rather constrained replies, for childless Cousin Mary's passion for young people was well known in her family, and Mrs. Desmond began to feel fidgety lest her guest might even temporarily interfere with Helen's training. It was a relief when the colonel entered the room smiling, happy, and friendly. After a few words of greeting to his guest he turned to inform his wife of some rather important news that had arrived from India by that day's mail. Upon this Miss Macleod put down her knitting and beckoned to Helen, pointing to a low chair by her side. "Your book must be very absorbing," she said smilingly as Helen obeyed. "No, it isn't," returned the girl abruptly. "I think it is the dullest book I ever read." "Why don't you put it down then and talk to us?" "Because," began Helen, with an ominous look in her stepmother's direction, "because"--but just then that lady, who had been listening to her husband with one ear and to Helen with the other, broke in: "What is the dullest book you ever read?" "This. _Amy Herbert._" "That is grateful, Helen, seeing the pains I took to get it for you." "And such a gorgeous-looking book too," put in the colonel, always eager to make peace. Helen said nothing, but drew back her chair a little with a grating sound, while Mrs. Desmond frowned and went on: "_Amy Herbert_ is a book that has delighted hundreds of children. I can remember that when I was a girl, I knew every line of it. It is a pity that you do not lay to heart some of the lessons it teaches. But young people won't be taught nowadays." "I think you are a little hard on young people, Margaret," put in Cousin Mary's pleasant voice. "We grown-up people are influenced by the feelings of our day. Books that appealed to our grandmothers don't affect us. Children are subject to the same influences. It is quite possible--" "I can't see it," interrupted Mrs. Desmond with most unusual vehemence. "What was good enough for my aunts, for instance, is quite good enough for me, and always will be, I hope." "My dear," interposed the colonel mildly, "would you write that note for me before dinner? It is important not to miss a single post." Mrs. Desmond sighed gently, but rose with a resigned air to comply with her husband's request. He followed her to her writing-table, leaving Cousin Mary and Helen alone. That notion of Miss Macleod's, that grown-up people and children were not set wide as the poles asunder, but were close akin to one another, struck Helen immensely, and made Cousin Mary seem quite an approachable being in this young girl's eyes, and instinctively she drew closer to this new relative with a pleasant sensation of confidence.