“Yes,” Aimée protested, “she does; and what is more, she is not different even with children. I have seen her take just as much trouble to please Phemie and the little Bilberrys as she would take to please Griffith or--or Mr. Gowan. And see how fond they were of her. If she had cared for nothing but masculine admiration, do you think Phemie would have adored her as she did, and those dull children would have been so desolate when she left them? No, I tell you. Dolly's weakness--and it isn't such a very terrible weakness, after all--lies in wanting _everybody_ to like her,--men, women, and children; yes, down to babies and dogs and cats. And see here, Mollie, ain't we rather fond of her ourselves?” “Yes,” owned Mollie, staring at the fire, “we are. Fond enough.” “And is n't she rather fond of us?” “Yes, she is--for the matter of that,” acquiesced Mollie. “Yes,” began 'Toinette, and then, the sound of footsteps upon the staircase interrupting her, she broke off abruptly to listen. “It is Phil's visitor,” she said. Mollie got up from her seat, roused into a lazy sort of interest. “I am going to look at him,” she said, and went to the window. The next minute she drew back, blushing. “He saw me,” she said. “I did n't think he could, if I stood here in the corner.” But he had; and more than that, in his admiration of her dimples and round fire-flushed cheeks, had smiled into her face, openly and without stint, as he passed. After tea Gowan came in. Mollie opened the door for him; and Mollie, in a soft blue dress, and with her hair dressed to a marvel, was a vision to have touched any man's fancy. She was in one of her sweet acquiescent moods, too, having recovered herself since the afternoon; and when she led him into the parlor, she blushed without any reason whatever, as usual, and as a consequence looked enchanting. “Phil has gone out,” she said. “'Toinette is putting Tod to bed, and Aimée is helping her; so there is no one here but me.” Gowan sat down--in Dolly's favorite chair. “You are quite enough,” he said; “quite enough--for me.” She turned away, making a transparent little pretence of requiring a hand-screen from the mantelpiece, and, having got it, she too sat down, and fell to examining a wretched little daub of a picture upon it most minutely. “This is very badly done,” she observed, irrelevantly. “Dolly did it, and made it up elaborately into this screen because it was such a sight. It is just like Dolly, to make fun and joke at her own mistakes. She has n't a particle of talent for drawing. She did this once when Griffith thought he was going to get into something that would bring him money enough to allow of their being married. She made a whole lot of little mats and things to put in their house when they got it, but Griffith did n't get the position, so they had to settle down again.” “Good Heavens!” ejaculated Gowan. “What is the matter?” she asked.