Abington Abbey. Archibald Marshall

them.

      The Pemberton girls—Nora, Effie and Kate—were cut out of the corresponding female pattern to their brother's. They were good-natured and well satisfied with themselves. But their self-satisfaction did not prevent them from taking a lively interest in other people, and their good-nature made them known to a large circle of acquaintances as 'good pals.' This reputation, though leading to much pleasant intercourse with members of either sex, is not the most favourable to matrimonial adjustments, and the youngest of them had already reached the middle twenties. But the shadow of spinsterhood had hardly yet begun to throw itself across their breezy path. With their horses and their golf, their visits to other country houses and sometimes to London, their father's large house, seldom entirely without guests in it, and above all their always increasing friendships, they had all that they wanted at present. Out of all their 'pals' there would be some day one for each of them in whose company they would continue the lives that they now found so pleasant. Almost anybody would do, if he was a good pal and had enough money. Falling in love was outside their beat. But it was probable that if one of them ever did fall in love, the other two would follow her suit. They were human enough in their primitive instincts.

      Barbara accompanied Nora and Kate. She took a keen interest in them as types new to her, and they thought her a bright and modest child whose tastes for a country life were worth cultivating. "You must hack about as much as you can till next season, and get used to it," said Kate. "Then we'll take you out cubbing, and by the time regular hunting begins you ought to be able to sit as tight as any of us. It isn't a tiptop country, but you can get a lot of fun out of it."

      "Better than jogging about in the Park, anyhow," said Nora. "I wouldn't live in London if you paid me."

      Effie Pemberton and Bertie's friend Francis Parry were conducted by Caroline. Francis was of the same type as Bertie—smooth-haired, well-dressed and self-confident, but on a quieter plane. He had been one of Caroline's regular dancing partners, had dined sometimes at the house in London, and stayed sometimes in the same houses in the country. She liked him, and had found him more interesting than most of the young men in whose company she had disported herself. He had tastes somewhat similar to hers, and it was a pleasure to point out to him what she had done to the house, and to receive his commendation. Effie Pemberton, who would much rather have been looking over the stables, found herself rather de trop, and presently allied herself to Worthing, to whom she said with a jerk of the thumb: "I think it's a case there."

      But it was not a case, at least as far as Caroline was concerned.