“That is bad,” said Margaret, with a smile; “for I must confess that I like her.”

“Well,” said her companion, “I am sure I could never like any one who made such unkind speeches about me.”

“I presume she said no more than she thought,” said Margaret, quietly.

“Well, so much the worse!” exclaimed Mrs. Hall, in surprise.  “I hope you do not think that excuses the matter at all?”

“Certainly, I do.  I presume she has some reason for thinking as she does; and, if so, it was very natural she should express her opinion.”

“Well, you are very cool and candid about it, I must say.  What reason have you given her, pray, for thinking you were bold and impudent?”

“None, that I am aware of,” replied Mrs. Winne, “but I presume she thinks I have.  I always claim her acquaintance, when we meet, and I have no doubt she would much rather I would let it drop.”

“Why don’t you, then?  I never knew her, and never had any desire for her acquaintance.  She was no better than you when you were girls, and I don’t think her present good fortune need make her so very scornful.”

“I do not think she exhibits any more haughtiness than most people would under the same circumstances.  Some would have dropped the acquaintance at once, without waiting for me to do it.  Her social position is higher than mine, and it annoys her to have me meet her as an equal, just I used to do.”

“You do it to annoy her, then?”

“Not by any means.  I would much rather she would feel, as I do, that the difference between us is merely conventional, and might bear to be forgotten on the few occasions when accident throws us together.  But she does not, and I presume it is natural.  I do not know how my head might be turned, if I had climbed up in the world as rapidly as she has done.  As it is, however, I admire her too much to drop her acquaintance just yet, as long as she leaves it to me.”

“Really, Margaret, I should have supposed you had too much spirit to intrude yourself upon a person that you knew wished to shake you off; and I do not see how you can admire one that you know to be so proud.”

“I do not admire her on account of her pride, certainly, though it is a quality that sits very gracefully upon her,” said Margaret Winne; and she introduced another topic of conversation, for she did not hope to make her companion understand the motives that influenced her.

“Bold and impudent!” said Margaret, to herself, as she sat alone, in her own apartment.  “I knew she thought it, for I have seen it in her looks; but she always treats me well externally, and I hardly thought she would say it.  I know she was vexed with herself for speaking to me, one day, when she was in the midst of a circle of her fashionable acquaintances.  I was particularly ill-dressed, and I noticed that they stared at me; but I had no intention, then, of throwing myself in her way.  Well,” she continued, musingly,