and then she said--'Miss Chesney, you pay my father for the protection and guarantee of his name and position in English social circles, but the companionship of my father's daughter was not included in the bargain. I have tried to make you understand as distinctly as I can that I will not be seen in society with you,--not because I dislike you,--far from it,--but simply because people would say I was acting as your paid companion. You force me to speak plainly, and I am sorry if I offend. As for Mrs Catsup, I have only met her once, and she seemed to me very common and ill-bred. Besides I do not care for the society of tradespeople.' And with that she got up and sailed out,--and I heard her order the carriage for me at ten. It's coming round directly, and just look at my red eyes! It's awfully hard on me,--I know old Catsup made his pile out of varnish, but varnish is as good as anything else in the general market. And----and----it's all out now, Mr Tempest,--and you can tell Sibyl what I've said if you like; I know you're in love with her!" I stared, bewildered by her voluble and almost breathless outburst. "Really, Miss Chesney," I began formally. "Oh yes, Miss Chesney, Miss Chesney--it's all very well!" she repeated impatiently, snatching up a gorgeous evening cloak which I mutely volunteered to put on, an offer she as mutely accepted--"I'm only a girl, and it isn't my fault if I've got a vulgar man for a father who wants to see me married to an English nobleman before he dies,--that's _his_ look-out--_I_ don't care about it. English noblemen are a ricketty lot in _my_ opinion. But I've as good a heart as anyone, and I could love Sibyl if she'd let me, but she _won't_. She leads the life of an ice-berg, and doesn't care a rap for anyone. She doesn't care for you, you know!--I wish she did,--she'd be more human!" "I'm very sorry for all this,"--I said, smiling into the piquante face of the really sweet-natured girl, and gently fastening the jewelled clasp of her cloak at her throat--"But you mustn't mind it so much. You are a dear little soul Diana,--kind and generous and impulsive and all the rest of it,--but,--well----English people are very apt to misunderstand Americans. I can quite enter into your feelings,--still you know Lady Sibyl is very proud----" "Proud!" she interrupted--"My! I guess it must feel something splendid to have an ancestor who was piked through the body on Bosworth field, and left there for the birds to eat. It seems to give a kind of stiffness in the back to all the family ever afterwards. Shouldn't wonder if the descendants of the birds who ate him felt kinder stuck up about it too!" I laughed,--she laughed with me, and was quite herself again. "If I told you _my_ ancestor was a Pilgrim Father, you wouldn't believe me I expect!" she said, the corners of her mouth dimpling. "I should believe anything from _your_ lips!" I declared gallantly.