dispenser, and such are not wanted in this nice little old world."

"But perhaps," Pauline looked thoughtful, "the fault is in us. We don't like her, and so we see nothing good in what she does. Now, Carrington Loria adores her. She had a letter from him to-day——"

"Yes, Loria adores her!" interrupted Haviland, "because he doesn't live with her! She sends him love-letters and money, and he doesn't know the everlasting torture of living under her roof, year in and year out! But he caught on a little the last time he was here. He said,—well, in his quaint  Oriental fashion, he said, 'Gee! she's the limit!' that's what he said."

"Well, she is," pouted Anita. "I can't do a thing to suit her. To-day I wrote a letter over six times before she was satisfied. And every change she wanted made was so foolish she wanted it changed back again. She nearly drove me crazy!"

"But I have to put up with her morning, noon, and night," sighed Pauline. "You have your hours off, Anita, but I never do. She even wakens me in the night to read to her, or to help her plan her new gowns."

"It is awfully hard for you," began Mr. Illsley, and then all stopped short, for the object of their discussion returned to the room.

It was plain to be seen Miss Carrington was in a state of suppressed excitement. She giggled almost hysterically, and tapped the Count playfully on the arm with her fan, as she bade him say good-night and go.

The interested ones watching her could not learn whether the Count had declared himself or not. The presumption was negative, for, had he done so, surely Miss Carrington would have told the good news.

Charlier himself was distinctly non-committal. Debonair as always, he made his adieux, no more demonstrative to his hostess than to the others, and went away. Illsley followed, and the household dispersed. The clock struck midnight as the ladies went upstairs.

Following custom, they all three went to Miss Lucy's boudoir. It was by way of reporting for to-morrow's orders, and was a duty never neglected.

The exquisite apartment, from which opened the bedroom and bath, was softly lighted and fragrant with flowers.

"How do you like Count Henri Charlier?" Miss Carrington quickly demanded of her satellites.

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