much afraid, I was going to say, that he knew it; but of course he
did when she had mildly told him so, over and over,--I am afraid he
_recollected_ it, at this very moment, and others similar.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Argenter," she said, with some
quiet coldness.

"I mean, I know how she takes _other_ girls to ride; she _sets them
down at the small gray house,--the house without any piazza or bay
window, Michael_!" and Mr. Argenter laughed. That was the order he
had heard Sylvie give one day when he had come up with his own
carriage at the post-office in the village, whither he had walked
over for exercise and the evening papers. Sylvie had Aggie Townsend
with her, and she put her head out at the window on one side just as
her father passed on the other, and directed Michael, with a very
elegant nonchalance, to "set this little girl down" as aforesaid.
Mr. Argenter had been half amused and half angry. The anger passed
off, but he had kept up the joke.

"O, do let that old story alone," exclaimed Mrs. Argenter. "Sylvie
will soon outgrow all that. If you want to make her a real lady,
there is nothing like letting her get thoroughly used to having
things."

"I don't intend her to get used to having a pony-chaise," Mr.
Argenter said very quietly and shortly. "If she wants to 'show a
kindness,' and take 'other' girls to ride, there's the slide-top
buggy and old Scrub. She may have that as often as she pleases."

And Mrs. Argenter knew that this ended--or had better end--the