of Philip's father. When I woke this morning, I remembered that
old Mr. Dunboyne was a rich man. I could eat no breakfast for
thinking of the poor girl who was not allowed to marry her young
gentleman, because she had no money.

Mrs. Staveley waited to speak to me till the rest of them had
left us together. I had expected her to notice that I looked dull
and dismal. No! her cleverness got at my secret in quite another
way.

She said: "How do you feel after the concert? You must be hard to
please indeed if you were not satisfied with the accompaniments
last night."

"The accompaniments of the Oratorio?"

"No, my dear. The accompaniments of Philip."

I suppose I ought to have laughed. In my miserable state of mind,
it was not to be done. I said: "I hope Mr. Dunboyne's father will
not hear how kind he was to me."

Mrs. Staveley asked why.

My bitterness overflowed at my tongue. I said: "Because papa
is a poor man."

"And Philip's papa is a rich man," says Mrs. Staveley, putting
my own thought into words for me. "Where do you get these ideas,
Eunice? Surely, you are not allowed to read novels?"