her hand silently, and leave her looking like a broken lily on the-"

"How can you be so cynical, Mr. Beresford? It isn't like you!"
exclaimed Salemina. "For my part, I don't think the girl is either
his bride or his fiancee. Probably the mother of the family is
dead, and the father is bringing his eldest daughter to look at the
house: that's my idea of it."

This theory being just as plausible as ours, we did not discuss it,
hoping that something would happen to decide the matter in one way
or another.

"She is not married, I am sure," went on Salemina, leaning over the
back of my chair. "You notice that she hasn't given a glance at the
kitchen or the range, although they are the most important features
of the house. I think she may have just put her head inside the
dining-room door, but she certainly didn't give a moment to the
butler's pantry or the china closet. You will find that she won't
mount to the fifth floor to see how the servants are housed,--not
she, careless, pretty creature; she will go straight to the drawing-
room."

And so she did; and at the same instant a still younger and prettier
creature drove up in a hansom, and was out of it almost before the
admiring cabby could stop his horse or reach down for his fare. She
flew up the stairway and danced into the drawing-room like a young
whirlwind; flung open doors, pulled up blinds with a jerk, letting
in the sunlight everywhere, and tiptoed to and fro over the dusty
floors, holding up her muslin flounces daintily.