"Oh, then I hate him awfully," exclaimed Vixen, with such energy that the slender figure trembled faintly as she spoke. "But tell me all about the party, mamma. Your dress was quite the prettiest, I am sure?" "I'm not certain of that, Violet," answered Mrs. Tempest with grave deliberation, as if the question were far too serious to be answered lightly. "There was a cream-coloured silk, with silver bullion fringe, that was very striking. As a rule, I detest gold or silver trimmings; but this was really elegant. It had an effect like moonlight." "Was that Lady Mabel Ashbourne's dress?" asked Vixen eagerly. "No; Lady Mabel wore blue gauze--the very palest blue, all puffings and ruchings--like a cloud." "Oh mamma! the clouds have no puffings and ruchings." "My dear, I mean the general effect--a sort of shadowiness which suits Lady Mabel's ethereal style." "Ethereal!" repeated Violet thoughtfully; "you seem to admire her very much, mamma." "Everybody admires her, my dear." "Because she is a duke's only daughter." "No; because she is very lovely, and extremely elegant, and most accomplished. She played and sang beautifully to-night." "What did she play, mamma?" "Chopin!" "Did she!" cried Vixen. "Then I pity her. Yes, even if she were my worst enemy I should still pity her." "People who are fond of music don't mind difficulties," said Mrs. Tempest. "Don't they? Then I suppose I'm not fond of it, because I shirk my practice. But I should be very fond of music if I could grind it on a barrel organ." "Oh, Violet, when will you be like Lady Mabel Ashbourne?" "Never, I devoutly hope," said the Squire. Here the Squire gave his daughter a hug which might mean anything. "Never, mamma," answered Violet with conviction. "First and foremost, I never can be lovely, because I have red hair and a wide mouth. Secondly, I can never be elegant--much less ethereal--because it isn't in me. Thirdly, I shall never be accomplished, for poor Miss McCroke is always giving me up as the baddest lot in the shape of pupils that ever came in her way." "If you persist in talking in that horrible way, Violet----" "Let her talk as she likes, Pam," said the fond father. "I won't have her bitted too heavily." Mrs. Tempest breathed a gentle sigh of resignation. The Squire was all that is dear and good as husband and father, but refinement was out of his line. "Do go on about the party, mamma. Did Rorie seem to enjoy himself very much----" "I think so. He was very devoted to his cousin all the evening. I believe they are engaged to be married." "Mamma!" exclaimed Vixen, starting up from her reclining attitude upon her father's shoulder, and looking intently at the speaker; "Rorie engaged to Lady Mabel Ashbourne!" "So I am told," replied Mrs. Tempest. "It will be a splendid match for him." The pretty chestnut head dropped back into its old place upon the Squire's shoulder, and Violet answered never a word.