serious; she evidently felt such an irresistible propensity to laugh. “Now,” continued she, turning the conversation, and putting on a dignified aspect, which occasionally she took it into her head to assume, though more in playfulness than earnest--“now let me tell you who you will meet here at dinner to-day.” “Major Harper, of course.” “I do not see the 'of course' Mrs. Thornycroft,” returned Agatha, rather sharply; then, melting into a smile, she added: “Well, 'of course,' as you say; what more likely visitor could I have than my guardian?” “Trustee, my dear; guardians belong to romances, where young ladies are always expected to hate, or fall in love with them.” Agatha flushed slightly. Now, unlike most girls, Miss Bowen did not look pretty when she blushed; her skin being very dark, and not over clear, the red blood coursing under it dyed her cheek, not “celestial, rosy red,” but a warm mahogany colour. Perhaps a consciousness of this deepened the unpleasant blushing fit, to which, like most sensitive people at her age, she was always rather prone. “Not,” continued Mrs. Thornycroft, watching her,--“not that I think any love affair is likely to happen in your case; Major Harper is far too much of a settled-down bachelor, and at the same time too old.” Agatha pulled a comical face, and made a few solemn allusions to Methuselah. She had a peculiarly quick, even abrupt manner of speaking, saying a dozen words in the time most young ladies would take to drawl out three; and possessing, likewise, the rare feminine quality of never saying a word more than was necessary. “Agatha, how funny you are!” laughed her easily-amused friend. “But, dear, tell me who else is coming?” And she glanced doubtfully down on a gown that looked like a marriage-silk “dyed and renovated.” “Oh, no ladies--and gentlemen never see whether one is dressed in brocade or sackcloth,” returned Agatha, rather maliciously;--“only, 'old Major Harper' as you are pleased to call him, and----” “Nay, I didn't call him very old--just forty, or thereabouts--though he does not look anything like it. Then he is so handsome, and, I must say, Agatha, pays you such extreme attention.” Agatha laughed again--the quick, light-hearted laugh of nineteen--and her brown eyes brightened with innocent pleasure. Young Mrs. Thornycroft again looked down uneasily at her dress--not from overmuch vanity, but because her hounded mind recurred instinctively from extraneous or large interests to individual and lesser ones. “Is there really any one particular coming, my dear? Of course, _you_ have no trouble about evening dress; mourning is such easy comfortable wear.” (Agatha turned her head quickly aside.) “That handsome silk of yours looks quite well still; and mamma there,” glancing at the contentedly knitting Mrs. Hill--“old ladies never require much dress; but if you had only told me to prepare for company----” “Pretty company! Merely our own circle--Dr. Ianson, Mrs. Ianson, and Miss Ianson--you need not mind outshining her now----” “No, indeed! I am married.” “Then the 'company' dwindles down to two besides yourselves; Major Harper and his brother.” “Oh! What sort of a person is the brother?” “I really don't know; I have never seen him. He is just come home from Canada; the youngest of the family--and I hate boys,” replied Agatha, running the sentences one upon the other in her quick fashion. “The youngest of the family--how many are there in all?” inquired the elder lady, her friendly anxiety being probably once more on matrimonial thoughts intent. “I am sure, Mrs. Hill, I cannot tell. I have never seen any of them but Major Harper, and...