world if he stumble at such common kindness as Lady Latimer's." And then
she told the story of the cheese-cake. "I beheld my lady then as a
remote and exalted sphere, where never foot of mine would come. I have
entered it since by reason of belonging to an old house of gentry, and I
find that I can breathe there. So may he some day, when he has earned a
title to it, but he would be very uncomfortable there now."

"And so may I some day, when I have earned a title to it, but I should
be very uncomfortable there now. Meanwhile we have souls above
cheese-cakes, and don't choose to bear my lady's patronage."

Bessie felt that she was being laughed at. She grew angry, and poured
out her sentiments hot: "There is a difference between you and young
Christie; you know quite well that there is, Harry. No, I sha'n't
explain what it consists in. Lady Latimer meant to encourage him: to see
that she thinks well enough of his sketches to buy one may influence
other people to buy them. He can't live on air; and if he is to be a
painter he must study. You are not going to rise in the world without
working? If you went to her house, she would make you acquainted with
people it might be good for you to know: it is just whether you like
that sort of thing or not. I don't; I am happier at home. But men don't
want to keep at home."

"_Already_, Bessie!" cried Harry in a rallying, reproachful tone.

"Already _what_, Harry? I am not giving myself airs, if that is what you
mean," said she blushing.

Harry shook his head, but only half in earnest: "You are, Bessie. You
are pretending to have opinions on things that you had never thought of