The Quiver, 2/ 1900. Various

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      "Oh, Harold! who are these smart people coming along?"

      They had already passed many well-dressed groups of residents, but none presenting so imposing an appearance collectively as did stately Miss Waller, in heliotrope, May Burnside, in an exquisite costume of pale grey silk and chiffon, Doris, a vision of childish prettiness in white muslin, and two or three equally well-dressed men, conspicuous amongst whom was Mr. Lang. Harold's colour rose as he lifted his hat, whilst Lulu eagerly exclaimed, "Oh! who is that pretty girl in grey? She looks quite fit for the Park!"

      He explained, secretly glad that his sister should admire his divinity; but it was fortunate he could not hear what Miss Waller was meanwhile saying to her niece: "Who is that common-looking girl with Dr. Inglis? She is most atrociously dressed."

      It must be confessed that poor Lulu, who had little money for dress, fell far below the Victoria Square standard. "Looks like a little dressmaker," sneered one of the men.

      "A dressmaker would have better clothes," observed Miss Waller. Her eyes dwelt complacently on her niece's graceful figure, as she spoke, and she was pleased to see how close Mr. Lang—who had overtaken them in coming out of church—kept to May's elbow, despite the black looks of Doris, who disliked him. The child was now quite well again, some days having elapsed since the garden party.

      "What are you going to do this afternoon. Mrs. Burnside? Will you come for a drive?" presently asked Mr Lang.

      But May did not approve of Sunday driving. "I promised to take Doris to the flower service, thank you."

      "Why, you've been to church once already, Doris! You'd much better persuade your mother to bring you for a drive with me," cajoled he; but the child burst out, "No, I don't like you, and I don't want to drive with you!" so resolutely that he could not press it.

      Miss Waller frowned angrily. "Really, May, the way you spoil Doris is beyond all reason. She is the rudest little girl I ever saw!" And, to soothe the plutocrat's wounded feelings, she insisted upon his coming home to luncheon with her. He was now a constant visitor in Victoria Square, for, having terminated his stay with the Stevensons, he had taken rooms at the principal hotel.

      Whilst May, in her costly gown, sat chafing beneath Mr. Lang's glances of insolent admiration, at her aunt's luxuriously appointed table, Harold and Lulu Inglis were very merry and happy over the plainest fare in his bare sitting-room. They had not met for a long time, and a cheap Whitsuntide excursion was the reason of her presence now. As soon as they had finished, they started for the shore. Sitting on a big stone, beneath the shade of the cliffs, they had a delightful chat, until Lulu suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, Harold! Here's that pretty girl in grey we saw this morning!"

      Doris, who loved the sea, had coaxed her mother to come down on the shore after the service, and, seeing his companion, May bowed to Harold, and would have passed on, but he detained her. "May I introduce my sister, Miss Lucy Inglis, Mrs. Burnside?"

      There was something so frank and friendly about Lulu that very soon, as Doris announced she was tired and wanted to rest, they were all seated upon the big stone, upon which Miss Inglis insisted on spreading her jacket, to protect May's dainty dress. Whilst his sister expatiated on the delights of Beachbourne, and wondered why her raptures evoked so little response from the young widow, Harold sat pondering whether he dare invite Mrs. Burnside to come to tea in his bare and shabby rooms.

      To his delight, she instantly accepted the invitation; eager, in truth, to escape from the hated society of Mr. Lang. Harold then turned to Doris, gaily asking whether she would come too.

      "Yes, I will," she answered with childish bluntness. "I like you, but I don't like Dr. Ellis—nasty man!—and I hate Mr. Lang."

      "You shouldn't hate anybody, Doris," reproved May.

      "But Mr. Lang calls me Little Crosspatch, and it's very rude of him to call me names, mummy."

      "Bravo, Doris!" cried Lulu mischievously, as they turned to go. "Stick up for your rights—you'll be a 'New Woman' when you grow up."

      "I hope so," said May, in a low voice, to the amazement of Miss Inglis, who exclaimed, with a glance at the costly equipment of the speaker: "I should never have expected you to utter such a wish, Mrs. Burnside!"

      May smiled with quiet bitterness. "I have no wish to see Doris speak on a platform, or go in for a man's profession; but I do feel, more and more, that it is better for women to be independent, whether they marry or not."

      "Why, that's just what I always say!" cried Lulu delightedly. "All women can't marry nowadays—there are not enough men to go round. Besides, what is more contemptible than to see girls sitting idle, with their hands folded, waiting for somebody to come along and marry them? No, every girl ought to be able to earn her own living, and then she's safe, whatever happens!"

      Needless to say, such maxims would have been entirely abhorrent to Miss Waller, who regarded working-girls with detestation, as May well knew.

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

"A Beautiful Anomaly."

       Table of Contents

      Arrived at his rooms, Harold did the honours; not without fears lest May should miss the luxuries of her home. But she enjoyed the change of surroundings with all the zest of a schoolgirl, and Doris, being made much of, was as good as gold. Harold himself had not spent such a delightful hour since he came to Beachbourne, but his hour of bliss was all too short; for soon a summons came from a patient, and, though it was only a greengrocer in the next street, patients were too precious to be slighted. So he departed, begging Mrs. Burnside to remain with Lulu until his return.

      Left alone, the two girls settled down for a cosy chat; Doris being quite absorbed in an illustrated book Harold had produced picturing the wonders of the microscope.

      "Dear old Harold!" began his sister. "Don't think me silly, Mrs. Burnside, but I'm proud of him, knowing how hard he worked for his degree. Will he ever get a good practice here, do you think?"

      "I hope so; but it takes time," answered May, rather embarrassed. "Have you many brothers and sisters?"

      "There are six of us altogether—a formidable number, isn't it? But, I'm glad to say, we're all doing something, and don't cost dear old dad a penny. I remind Esther of that—she's my eldest sister—when she grumbles, and wishes we were back at Mallowfield Hall."

      "That was your father's place, wasn't it?"

      "Yes, our ancestors lived there centuries ago. This is the house." And she produced a photograph of an imposing mansion standing in a spacious park, a residence which even Miss Waller would have acknowledged to be a magnificent property.

      "What a lovely place! And you had to leave it?"

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