"Oh, no," returned the girl, quickly, and then a frank blush came to her face as she met her mother's clear searching look. "Well, I will confess, as Fluff says"--laughing a little unsteadily; "I am afraid I was just a little bit discontented." "You discontented, my pet?" in an incredulous voice, for Fern's sweet unselfishness and bright content made the sunshine of their humble home. There seemed no chord of fretfulness in the girl's nature; her pure health and buoyant spirits found no cause for complaint. Nea lived her youth again in her child, and she often thanked Heaven even in her desolate moments for this one blessing that had never disappointed her. Fern pressed a little closer to her mother, and wrapped her arms round her. "But it is true, mother, I had quite a naughty fit. Crystal talked about Percy and Mr. Erle; it was not so much what she said as what she implied that troubled me, but she seemed to think that our life was so different to theirs--that we were poor people, and that they had nothing in common with us, and that it was better not to be friends. Somehow, it made me feel all at once how shabby and commonplace one's life really was." Mrs. Trafford sighed, but there was no reproach in her voice. "Yes, dear; I understand, it is quite natural, and I should have felt the same at your age. I wish, for your sake, my darling, that things were different; but Crystal is very wise and right in trying to make you understand the barrier between Erle Huntingdon and us." "But, mother," with a burning face, "we are gentlefolk; surely it does not matter so much that we are poor." "The world would not indorse that, Fern," replied her mother, gently; "it is apt to turn a cold shoulder to genteel poverty. The hardest lot in life, in my opinion, is the life of a poor gentlewoman." "But Mr. Erle does not look down upon us," persisted Fern, "or he would not come so often. He always says that no room in Belgrave House is so home-like as this room, and that he is happier here than in the houses of his grand friends." A troubled look came to the mother's face, and involuntarily she pressed her child closer to her, as though to defend her from some threatened danger, and her voice was not quite so clear as usual as she answered: "It is Erle's nature to say pleasant things. He is a gentlemanly, kind-hearted fellow, and I am sure that we all like him very much; but I should not care for my little daughter to see too much of him. Erle Huntingdon is not the friend I would choose for you, Fern." "But, mother"--opening her eyes widely at this--"if we like him, why should we not be friends?" Mrs. Trafford hesitated; she hardly liked to disturb Fern's mind, and yet she wished to put her on her guard.