consolation of religion. It's fine to hear her talk when she's
inspired--not a bit preachy, you know--she's certainly far enough from
that--but more like reading some beautiful poem you can but half
understand, or listening to music that makes you wish you were better,
whether you take in its full meaning or not."

This was a long speech for Lady Alice. Her mother looked at her in
amazement. There certainly must be something out of the ordinary in this
peculiar American cousin to wake Alice from her customary languor.

Alice smiled at her mother's surprise.

"Strange, isn't it, Mother?" she asked, half ashamed of her unusual
enthusiasm. "But it's true. She'd help some good man to be a power in
the world. I feel it so often when she talks. I didn't know women ever
thought such things as she does. I-I-I believe we can trust her, Mother,
to steer clear of everything!"

"I hope so, Alice; I am sure I hope so, but--I don't know. I am afraid
it was a mistake to keep her so much alone. It gives her more unreal
ideas of life than actual contact with the world would have done."

Opal Ledoux left the window and sauntered down the long drawing-room
toward the table where the speakers were sitting.

"What are you talking about?--me?"

The cousins were surprised and showed it by blushing guiltily.

Opal laughed merrily.