thrown continually in the company of two attractive girls."

"I understand--you mean that we should not see so much of them," said
Christie, with a frank expression of relief so genuine as to utterly
discompose her father. "Perhaps you are right, though I fail to
discover anything serious in the attentions of young Kearney to
Jessie--or--whoever it may be--to me. But it will be very easy to
remedy it, and see less of them. Indeed, we might begin to-day with some
excuse."

"Yes--certainly. Of course!" said Mr. Carr, fully convinced of his
utter failure, but, like most weak creatures, consoling himself with the
reflection that he had not shown his hand or committed himself. "Yes;
but it would perhaps be just as well for the present to let things go on
as they were. We'll talk of it again--I'm in a hurry now," and, edging
himself through the door, he slipped away.

"What do you think is father's last idea?" said Christie, with, I fear,
a slight lack of reverence in her tone, as her sister reentered the
room. "He thinks George Kearney is paying you too much attention."

"No!" said Jessie, replying to her sister's half-interrogative,
half-amused glance with a frank, unconscious smile.

"Yes, and he says that Fairfax--I think it's Fairfax--is equally
fascinated with ME."

Jessie's brow slightly contracted as she looked curiously at her sister.

"Of all things," she said, "I wonder if any one has put that idea into