the pale and tall fronts of the houses beyond; and she wheeled in
three low easy-chairs, so as to front this comparatively cheerful
prospect.

Somehow or other, it seemed quite natural that Sheila should wheel in
those chairs. It was certainly no disrespect on the part of either her
husband or her visitor which caused both of them to sit still and give
her her own way about such things. Indeed, Lavender had not as yet
ever attempted to impress upon Sheila the necessity of cultivating
the art of helplessness. That, with other social graces, would perhaps
come in good time. She would soon acquire the habits and ways of her
friends and acquaintances, without his trying to force upon her a
series of affectations, which would only embarrass her and cloud the
perfect frankness and spontaneity of her nature. Of one thing he was
quite assured--that whatever mistakes Sheila might make in society
they would never render her ridiculous. Strangers might not know the
absolute sincerity of her every word and act, which gave her a courage
that had no fear of criticism, but they could at least see the simple
grace and dignity of the girl, and that natural ease of manner which
is beyond the reach of cultivation, being mainly the result of a
thorough consciousness of honesty. To burden her with rules and
regulations of conduct would be to produce the very catastrophes he
wished to avoid. Where no attempt is made, failure is impossible;
and he was meanwhile well content that Sheila should simply appear as
Sheila, even although she might draw in a chair for a guest or so far
forget her dignity as to pour out some wine for her husband.

"After all, Sheila," said Lavender, "hadn't I better begin and tell
Ingram about your surprise and delight when you came near Oban and saw
the tall hotels and the trees? It was the trees, I think, that