truly when she said that Irene’s dresses were lovely. There never was a bow or a flower misplaced, or colors that did not blend with perfect harmony. With the ample means she possessed, it became a noticeable fact that no lady dressed with greater taste than Miss Mapleton. She had paid the Wilmers a visit the summer previous to the opening of this story, and it was then that Mrs. Wilmer had used every means to make a favorable impression on the mind of Irene, and to influence Scott to do the same. Scott, however, was not the person to practice any deception, and when his mother spoke to him in regard to being more attentive, he only smiled and said:

“Why, mother, I shall not pretend any affection I do not feel, and I really cannot help whether Miss Mapleton likes me or not. I will devote all my spare time to making her visit pleasant, and that is the best I can do.”

Mrs. Wilmer replied that Scott was a strange boy, at any rate, but, she added:

“I suppose there is no use to urge you in the matter.”

“How soon will she be here, did you say?” asked June.

“In a few days, the dispatch says, and,” said Mrs. Wilmer, turning to Scott, “I suppose her father is quite anxious to have your marriage take place as soon as convenient.”

“I can see no hurry for such an event,” Scott replied.

“Why, her father is so interested in his business that he has no time to devote to her, she says, and she feels her loneliness greatly. I hope we shall be able to keep her with us a few weeks at least. Her father says, too, that he is afraid some other will carry off the prize.”

“She certainly should possess enough firmness not to be so easily captured, and I should not consider it much of a prize that could be drawn without an effort to secure it. I am decided on waiting another year, at least.”

Mrs. Wilmer said nothing more. She knew that firmness was one of the strongest features of her son’s nature, and she knew, also, that he, as a rule, was right. He seldom settled on a matter without having first looked it thoroughly over, and when a decision was made, no force of argument could change his views. The closing of the curved lips showed plainly that Scott Wilmer never surrendered to any trifling argument. Although in nowise conceited, he yielded not to another’s opinion without first being convinced by a process of reasoning satisfactory to himself. His face was a fine one, and although not strikingly handsome, was 9 wonderfully attractive and beaming with intelligence. His auburn hair curled loosely around his broad white brow, and his hazel eyes were clear and searching. June often said to him:

“Please, brother Scott, don’t look at me so hard; I would rather not do as I want to than to have you look at me like that.”

His love for his young sister was very strong, and he was indulgent as far as consistency would allow, but when he found, as he often did, that she was inclined to be self-willed, he would look at her in that searching way, which really meant more, and had a more lasting impression on her than harsh words could have done. June dearly loved her brother, and she would sooner have disobeyed either parent than her brother Scott, and when she went to Mr. Wilmer with a request which he considered unreasonable, he would caress her and answer carelessly:

“Oh, go and ask Scott.”

Mr. Wilmer’s health had become impaired by too close attention to business, and at the present time he had retired on a comfortable income, and the affairs of the family had inadvertently fallen upon Scott, who, though young in years, was an adept in the transaction of business. He possessed his father’s strong ambition, and, at the present time, was studying law, and hoped to be admitted to the bar in another year. He was in no hurry to trouble his mind with love affairs, and he really wished that Irene’s visit could be postponed; although he was too much of a gentleman to say so, even to his mother.

In the afternoon June sought her brother, and seating herself on his knee urged him to go with her and help her find the little girl, and get her out of the station.

“Oh, you little, soft-hearted kitten,” said Scott, “we cannot look after all the beggars, and we could not get her out until morning if we were to try, and, besides, mother says she needs a lesson, and, last of all, I cannot spend the time.”

“But only think if I were shut up and had to stay in the dark all night, why, I should die from fright.”

“But you say she said she was not afraid, so it cannot hurt her.”

“Yes; she said she was not afraid, but I guess she said so because she knew she must go, and when the policeman told her so, I think she said it to show him how brave she could be. You should have seen how sweetly she looked at me when I spoke kindly to her, and when the policeman spoke crossly to her, mercy! How black her eyes did look, and her pretty lip curled up just this way.”

Here June put up her red lips in the sauciest way imaginable.

“What! like that,” said Scott, “she must have been a terribly impudent piece of humanity; that is a wonderfully saucy looking mouth. I guess she does not deserve any pity.”

“Oh, well, that was when the policeman spoke cross to her. When I spoke to her she looked like this,” said June, drawing her mouth down in the most pitiful manner.

“Oh, that alters the case; but now you see it will not do any good to talk about it, and if you will just run away and let me have the library to myself a couple of hours, I will promise to take you out riding in the morning, and I will step into court and bail her out, providing she promises to be good in the future.”

It was enough. Scott had promised and she knew he would go.

“Thank you, Scott,” she said, “but I wish it were now, so that the poor little girl would not have to stay alone to-night.”

“We cannot help it, June; there is no way that we can do anything for her to-day, so let that satisfy you.”

“Very well,” said June, as she left the room, “I will wait.”

Mrs. Wilmer doubtless would have objected to any intercession whatever on the part of her son in regard to the little culprit, but June knew that her father would not, and she was sure that Scott would do just what was right, so she said nothing to her mother on the subject. Young though she was, she knew her 12 mother’s peculiarities, and she had learned that in order to avoid all opposition or argument, the safest way was to appeal to Scott or her father. She had not the slightest idea of showing any disrespect to her mother’s wishes or judgment, but it seemed so natural for her mother to object to everything that June proposed, because she said that June was so apt to overlook everything like caste, and so much depended on that. June never had half the pride, she declared, that should belong to the Wilmers, neither had June’s father, and she was just like him, Mrs. Wilmer thought, so when June appealed to her father, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to say:

“Oh, don’t bother me, little one; go ask Scott.”

In this way she had grown into the habit of going to Scott with all her troubles and wishes.

“I mean to retire real early to-night,” she said to Scott.

“Why?” he asked.

“So that I can be up and take breakfast with you; then you will be sure to go early to find the little girl.”

June was as good as her word, for when Scott entered the breakfast