Miss Dudgeon," said Elma to Miss Annie on the day when she described the great "coming out" occasion.

Miss Annie arrested the handsome teapot before pouring further.

"What! anybody more pretty than Miss Dudgeon?" she asked. "That is surely impossible."

"Mr. Maclean said so," said Elma.

"And who is Mr. Maclean?" asked Miss Annie.

"Oh--Mr. Maclean--Mr. Maclean is just Mrs. Maclean's nephew. But he knows Miss Dudgeon, and he looked a long time at Mabel and said she was prettier."

"You must not think so much of looks, Elma," said Miss Annie reprovingly. "Mabel is highly gifted, that is of much more consequence."

"Is it?" asked Elma. "Papa says so, though he won't believe any of us can be gifted. He thinks there's a great deal for us to learn. It's very de--demoralizing."

"Demoralizing?" asked Miss Annie.

"Yes, isn't it demora-lizing I mean, Miss Annie?" Elma begged in a puzzled manner.

Miss Annie daintily separated half a slice of seed cake from the formal pieces lying in the beautiful filigree cake basket.

"I do not think it is 'demoralizing' that you mean, dear. 'Demoralizing' would infer that your father, by telling you there was a great deal to learn, kept you from learning anything at all, upset you completely as it were."

Miss Annie was as exact as she could be on these occasions, when she took the place of the little bright red dictionary.

This time her information seemed to please Elma immensely. Her eyes immediately shone brilliantly.

"Oh, Miss Annie," she said, "it must be 'demoralizing' after all. That's just how I feel. Papa tells me, and I see the great big things to be done, and it doesn't seem to be any use to try the little things. Like Mozart's Rondos! They are so silly, you know. And when you see people like Mr. Sturgis painting big e--e--elaborate pictures, I simply can't draw at school at all."

Miss Grace leant forward on her chair, pulling little short breaths as though not to lose, by breathing properly, one word of this. She considered it marvellous that this young thing should invariably be expressing the thoughts which had troubled her all her life, and never even been properly recognized by herself, far less given voice to. It enabled her on many occasions to see clearly at last, and to be able, by the light of her own lost opportunities, to give counsel to Elma.

Miss Annie's eyes only looked calmly amused. It was an amusement to which Elma never took exception, but to-day she wanted something more, to prevent the foolishness which she was afraid of experiencing whenever she made a speech of this nature. Miss Annie only toyed with a silver spoon, however, looking sweet and very kindly at Elma, and it was Miss Grace who finally spoke.

She had recovered the shy equanimity with which she always filled in pauses for her sister.

"You must not allow the fine work of others to paralyze your young activities," Miss Grace said gravely. "Mr. Sturgis was young himself once, and no doubt at school studied freehand drawing very diligently to be so great as he is now."

"Oh, no," said Elma, "that's one of the funny parts. Mr. Sturgis doesn't approve of freehand drawing at all. He says it's anything but freehand, he says it's--it's--oh! I mustn't say it."

"Say it," said Miss Annie cheerfully.

"He says it's rotten," said Elma.

There was something of a pause after this.

"And it's so funny with Mabel," said Elma. "Mabel never practises a scale unless mamma goes right into the room and hears her do it. But Mabel can read off and play Chopin. And papa takes me to hear Liszt Concertos, and I can't play one of them."

"You can't stretch the chords yet, dearie," said Miss Grace.

"No, but it's very demor--what was it I said?" she asked Miss Annie anxiously.

"Demoralizing," said Miss Annie.

"And there's paralyzing too," said Elma gratefully. "That's exactly how I feel."

She sat nursing one of her knees in a hopeless manner, until it struck her that neither Miss Annie nor Miss Grace liked to see her in this attitude. Nothing was ever said on these occasions, but invariably one knew that in order not to get on the nerves of Miss Annie, one must sit straight and not fidget. Elma sat up therefore and resumed conversation.

"Mabel says it is nothing to play a Liszt Concerto," said Elma hopelessly.

"Is Mabel playing Liszt?" asked Miss Grace in astonishment.

"Mabel plays anything," sighed Elma.

"That is much better than being prettier than Miss Dudgeon," said Miss Annie.

She took up a little book which lay near her. It was bound in white vellum and had little gold lines tooled with red running into fine gold clasps. Two angel heads on ivory were inserted in a sunk gold rim on the cover. Miss Grace saw a likeness in the blue eyes there to the round orbs fastened on it whenever Elma had to listen to the wisdom of the white book. The title, The Soul's Delineator, fascinated her by its vagueness. She had never cared to let Miss Annie know that in growing from the days when she could not even spell, the word "delineator" had remained unsatisfactory as a term to be applied to the soul. There was The Delineator of fashions at home--a simple affair to understand, but that it should be applied to the "ivory thoughts" of Miss Annie seemed confusing. Miss Annie moved her white fingers, sparkling with the future duchess's rings, in and out among the gilt-edged pages. Then she read.

"The resources of the soul are quickened and enlivened, not so much by the education of the senses, as by the encouragement of the sensibilities, i.e. these elements which go to the making of the character gentle, chivalrous, kind; in short, the elements which provoke manners and good breeding."

Miss Annie paused. Her voice had sustained a rather high and different tone, as it always did when she read from the white book.

"Mabel has very nice manners, hasn't she?" asked Elma anxiously.

"Do you know that you have said nothing at all about the Story Book Girls to-day, and everything about Mabel," said Miss Annie. "I quite miss my Story Books."

Elma's eyes glowed.

Miss Annie had marked the line where the dream life was becoming the real life. Elma, in two days, had transferred her mise en scene of the drama of life from four far-away people to her own newly grown-up sister. It was a devotion which lasted long after the days of dreaming and imagining had passed for the imaginative Elma, this devotion and admiration for her eldest sister.

In case she should not entertain Miss Annie properly, she ran back a little, and told her how it was that Mabel had got a blue gown after all. It was delightful to feel the appreciation of Miss Annie, and to watch the wrinkles of laughter