"I've tried to persuade her to go to visit Olivia," continued
Mrs. Gardiner. "But she won't. And she doesn't want me to ask
Olivia here."

"I'll ask Olivia before I speak to her."

Mrs. Gardiner went up to her daughter's room--it had been her
play-room, then her study, and was now graduated into her
sitting-room. She was dreaming over a book--Tennyson's poems.
She looked up, eyes full of hope.

"He has some good reason, dear," began her mother.

"What is it?" demanded Pauline.

"I can't tell you any more than I've told you already," replied
her mother, trying not to show her feelings in her face.

"Why does he treat me--treat you--like two naughty little
children?" said Pauline, impatiently tossing the book on the
table.

"Pauline!" Her mother's voice was sharp in reproof. "How can
you place any one before your father!"

Pauline was silent--she had dropped the veil over herself.
"I--I--where did you place father--when--when--" Her eyes were
laughing again.

"You know he'd never oppose your happiness, Polly." Mrs.