embroider, whilst her mother poured out these remonstrances in a plaintive voice. Once she escaped to her bedroom, and indulged herself in the luxury of a good cry. It was hard to disappoint her mother, and really there was nothing to say against Mr. Despenser. His sins were sins of omission. He lacked heart. He was deficient in human sympathy; and something told May that she could never be happy with a man who cared more for blue china than for human beings What would Mr. Despenser have cared for her girls, or for her cripple friend; and as for the cobbler, May could not help laughing when she thought of him in connection with Mr. Gower! Will's entourage would have repelled and disgusted Mr. Despenser's fastidious taste, and whilst May talked about reverence for the beautiful soul encased in the ugly casket, Mr. Despenser would have been turning over in his mind the desirability of shutting the disagreeable object out of sight in some Hospital for Incurables. Culture may be all very well in its way, but brotherly love is better. This was the conclusion at which May arrived as she dried her eyes, and descended the stairs to take her place by her mother's sofa with a serene countenance; and this was what she tried to say when she told her poor little history to her Aunt Grace, who came to pay Mrs. Pemberton a short visit after the episode described above. Aunt Grace listened and sympathised, and drew her niece's flushed cheek down to her lips, more than once, as May recited her woes; and then she skilfully changed the subject to the more congenial one of May's "Saturday evenings." "How are you getting on, my dear, with your sociable gatherings," she inquired. Capitally, Aunt. I do wish you would join us to-night. We do have such fun." "I suppose the tongues are active enough," Miss Harcourt said, smiling. "Indeed they are. I have asked some of my friends-Lucy Singleton, and Edith Despenser and others, to join us occasionally; but the invariable answer is, I should not know what to say to the girls,' just as if shop-girls spoke a different language." "Do you find any difficulty, May?" "Not a bit. They talk exactly like other girls-not quite so grammatically, I must allow. And they were rather shy and stiff at first. But that soon wore off." "Yes, I expect that would wear off very soon," Miss Harcourt said, glancing quietly at her niece's sweet, bright face. "Did I not tell you May, that your talent lay in making yourself agreeable? Keep to that, my dear, and leave to us the old fogeys, the burden of heavier work." "I hope I am doing a little good, Aunt Grace," May said, timidly. "But whether I am or not, one thing is certain that I have never felt so happy before in my life. I wouldn't give up Will and my girls for all the -Despensers in the world." |