"You forget that Miss McPherson is English," Mrs. Jerrold said, and the
lady in question at once rejoined:

"Never mind. I do not believe in spoiling a story for relation's sake,
or country's either, and I fully agree with Grey that the Continental
habit of breakfasting in bed, with unwashed face and hands, is a very
_nasty_ one, in the American sense of the word. I never did it, and
never would."

"You have been on the Continent, then?" Mr. Jerrold asked, and instantly
there came upon Miss McPherson's face an expression of bitter pain, as
if some sad memory had been stirred; then, quickly recovering herself,
she answered:

"Yes, I was at school in Paris a year, and traveled another year all
over Switzerland, Germany, and Italy. It may seem strange to Grey, who
probably cannot realize that I was ever young, to know that I, too, have
my Alpenstock as a voucher for the mountains I have climbed and the
chasms I have crossed. Did you go to Monte-Carlo?"

The question was addressed to Grey, who replied:

"Yes, we were there four days."

"Did you play?"

"No, I did not even see them play. They would not let me in; I was too
young, and I should not have played anyway, for I promised Aunt Lucy I
would not," Grey said, and Miss McPherson replied, with startling