as almost to be black, and large, soft, thoughtful grey eyes. We
shall have much to say of Mary Masters, and can hardly stop to give
an adequate description of her here. The others were Dolly and
Kate, two girls aged sixteen and fifteen. The two younger
"children" were eating bread and butter and jam in a very healthy
manner, but still had their ears wide open to the conversation that
was being held. The two younger girls sympathised strongly with
their mother. Mary, who had known much about the Mortons, and was
old enough to understand the position which her grandfather had
held in reference to the family, of course leaned in her heart to
her father's side. But she was wiser than her father, and knew that
in such discussions her mother often showed a worldly wisdom which,
in their present circumstances, they could hardly afford to
disregard, unpalatable through it might be.

Mr. Masters disliked these discussions altogether, but he disliked
them most of all in presence of his children. He looked round upon
them in a deprecatory manner, making a slight motion with his hand
and bringing his head down on one side, and then he gave a long
sigh. If it was his intention to convey some subtle warning to his
wife, some caution that she alone should understand, he was
deceived. The "children" all knew what he meant quite as well as
did their mother.

"Shall we go out, mamma?" asked Dolly. "Finish your teas, my
dears," said Mr. Masters, who wished to stop the discussion rather
than to carry it on before a more select audience.

"You've got to make up your mind to-night," said Mrs. Masters, "and
you'll be going over to the Bush at eight"