remained silent for awhile. Bell was, perhaps, a little angry with
her sister. It was not often that she allowed herself to say much in
praise of any gentleman; and, now that she had spoken a word or two
in favour of Mr Crosbie, she felt herself to be rebuked by her sister
for this unwonted enthusiasm. Lily was at work on a drawing, and in
a minute or two had forgotten all about Mr Crosbie; but the injury
remained on Bell's mind and prompted her to go back to the subject.
"I don't like those slang words, Lily."

"What slang words?"

"You know what you called Bernard's friend."

"Oh; a swell. I fancy I do like slang. I think it's awfully jolly to
talk about things being jolly. Only that I was afraid of your nerves
I should have called him stunning. It's so slow, you know, to use
nothing but words out of a dictionary."

"I don't think it's nice in talking of gentlemen."

"Isn't it? Well, I'd like to be nice--if I knew how."

If she knew how! There is no knowing how, for a girl, in that matter.
If nature and her mother have not done it for her, there is no hope
for her on that head. I think I may say that nature and her mother
had been sufficiently efficacious for Lilian Dale in this respect.

"Mr Crosbie is, at any rate, a gentleman, and knows how to make
himself pleasant. That was all that I meant. Mamma said a great deal
more about him than I did."