eyes wandered off to that unseen something, and the faint smile dimpled her
thin cheeks.

"You are like her, and you know it. I may even say you wish to be like her,
Mrs. Oke," I answered, laughing.

"Perhaps I do."

And she looked in the direction of her husband. I noticed that he had an
expression of distinct annoyance besides that frown of his.

"Isn't it true that Mrs. Oke tries to look like that portrait?" I asked,
with a perverse curiosity.

"Oh, fudge!" he exclaimed, rising from his chair and walking nervously to
the window. "It's all nonsense, mere nonsense. I wish you wouldn't, Alice."

"Wouldn't what?" asked Mrs. Oke, with a sort of contemptuous indifference.
"If I am like that Alice Oke, why I am; and I am very pleased any one
should think so. She and her husband are just about the only two members of
our family--our most flat, stale, and unprofitable family--that ever were
in the least degree interesting."

Oke grew crimson, and frowned as if in pain.

"I don't see why you should abuse our family, Alice," he said. "Thank God,
our people have always been honourable and upright men and women!"

"Excepting always Nicholas Oke and Alice his wife, daughter of Virgil
Pomfret, Esq.," she answered, laughing, as he strode out into the park.