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he was a very little boy at Charterhouse when I was a big one; he afterwards went to Oxford and got sent down from Christ Church for the part he took in burning a Greek bust in Tom Quad—an antique Greek bust—after a bump supper.'

'Just the sort of man I should have expected,' Hilda answered, with a suppressed smile. 'I have a sort of inkling that Miss Montague likes him best; he is nearer her type; but she thinks Cecil Holsworthy the better match. Has Mr. Nettlecraft money?'

'Not a penny, I should say. An allowance from his father, perhaps, who is a Lincolnshire parson; but otherwise, nothing.'

'Then, in my opinion, the young lady is playing for Mr. Holsworthy's money; failing which, she will decline upon Mr. Nettlecraft's heart.'

We talked it all over. In the end, I said abruptly, 'Nurse Wade, you have seen Miss Montague, or whatever she calls herself. I have not. I won't condemn her unheard. I have half a mind to run down one day next week to Scarborough and have a look at her.'

'Do. That will suffice. You can judge then for yourself whether or not I am mistaken.'

I went and what is more, I heard Miss Sissie sing at her hall—a pretty domestic song, most childish and charming. She impressed me not unfavourably, in spite of what Hilda said. Her peach-blossom cheek might have been art, but looked like nature. She had an open face, a baby smile; and there was a frank girlishness about her dress and manner that took my fancy. 'After all,' I thought to myself, 'even Hilda Wade is fallible.'

So that evening, when her 'turn' was over, I made up my mind to go round and call upon her. I had told Cecil