“I suppose that is one reason you look so forlorn all the time.  I will ask Uncle Guy to send you to the dancing school for—­”

“Pauline, it is school-time, and you don’t know one word of that Quackenbos; I would be ashamed to start from home as ignorant of my lessons as you are.”  Mrs. Chilton’s head was projected from the parlor window, and the rebuke was delivered in no very gentle tone.

“Oh, I don’t mind it at all; I have got used to it,” answered the daughter, tossing up the book as she spoke.

“Get ready for school this minute!”

Pauline scampered into the house for her bonnet and sachel; and, fixing her eyes upon Beulah, Mrs. Chilton asked sternly: 

“What are you doing out there?  What did you follow my brother to the gate for?  Answer me!”

“I merely opened the gate for him,” replied the girl, looking steadily up at the searching eyes.

“There was a servant with him to do that.  In future don’t make yourself so conspicuous.  You must keep away from the flower beds too.  The doctor wishes no one prowling about them; he gave particular directions that no one should go there in his absence.”

They eyed each other an instant; then, drawing up her slender form to its utmost height, Beulah replied proudly: 

“Be assured, madam, I shall not trespass on forbidden ground!”

“Very well.”  The lace curtains swept back to their place—­the fair face was withdrawn.

“She hates me,” thought Beulah, walking on to her own room; “she hates me, and certainly I do not love her.  I shall like Pauline very much, but her mother and I never will get on smoothly.  What freezing eyes she has, and what a disagreeable look there is about her mouth whenever she sees me!  She wishes me to remember all the time that I am poor, and that she is the mistress of this elegant house.  Ah, I am not likely to forget it!” The old smile of bitterness crossed her face.

The days passed swiftly.  Beulah spent most of her time in her own room, for Dr. Hartwell was sometimes absent all day, and she longed to escape his sister’s icy espionage.  When he was at home, and not engaged in his study, his manner was always kind and considerate; but she fancied he was colder and graver, and often his stern abstraction kept her silent when they were together.  Monday was the birthday, and on Monday morning she expected to start to school.  Madam St. Cymon’s was the fashionable institution of the city, and thither, with Pauline, she was destined.  Beulah rose early, dressed herself carefully, and, after reading a chapter in her Bible, and asking God’s special guidance through the day, descended to the breakfast room.  Dr. Hartwell sat reading a newspaper; he did not look up, and she quietly seated herself unobserved.  Presently Mrs. Chilton entered and walked up to her brother.

“Good-morning, Guy.  Are there no tidings of that vessel yet?  I hear the Grahams are terribly anxious about it.  Cornelia said her father was unable to sleep.”