"Oh, don't show those first few, dear," Selina exclaimed. "You know
they're not nearly so good as some of the others. That mill is all out
of drawing."

Mary, who had been elbowed into the background, rose quietly and crossed
to the other end of the room. Brooks followed her for a moment with
regretful eyes. Her simple gown, with the little piece of ribbon around
her graceful neck, seemed almost distinguished by comparison with the
loud-patterned and dressier blouses of the two girls who had now hemmed
him in. For a moment he ignored the waiting pages.

"Your cousin," he remarked, "is quite unlike any of you. Has she been
with you long?"

Louise looked up a little tartly.

"Oh, about three years. You are quite right when you say that she is
unlike any of us. It doesn't seem nice to complain about her exactly,
but she really is terribly trying, isn't she, Selina?"

Selina nodded, and dropped her voice.

"She is getting worse," she declared. "She is becoming a positive
trouble to us."

Brooks endeavoured to look properly sympathetic, and considered himself
justified in pursuing the conversation. "Indeed! May I ask in what
way?"

"Oh, she has such old-fashioned ideas," Louise said, confidentially.