her, and for a little they just interchanged the generalities which, between two people who have not seen each other for some time, are the necessary ushers to real talk. The day was very hot, and Dorothy, catlike, basked and purred in it. There was something rather décolleté about her appearance, and something in her general atmosphere was equally so. She was, in fact, very different, so she struck Amelie, from the woman who told the gardener's son the fairy-story on the dewy lawn at Long Island.
' I am charmed to see you,' she said for the second time, when Amelie was seated; ' and I was furious the other day when you put me off coming to see you at Molesworth. Had you a prim party? If so, it was kind of you. Priggish, prim, and prudish—those are the qualities I dislike — probably,' she added with admirable candour, ' because I do not happen to be fortunate enough to possess them.'
She paused a moment; then an idea seemed to strike her.
' And where and how is Bertie?' she asked. ' I haven't set eyes on him for months—not since the party in Long Island, in fact.'
' He said he hadn't seen you since then the other day,' said Amelie.
' No; I'm rather hurt, because at one time, you know, we were the greatest friends. I used to see him every day nearly. Then——— '
She got up with her slow, catlike movements, and stretched herself luxuriously, and laughed a lazy laugh of somewhat animal enjoyment. Something about Amelie's attitude—her reserve, her stiffness, which was altogether unlike what she remembered of her in Long Island—rather irritated her, and woke in her that gamin spirit of mischief which was a very sensible ingredient in her nature. Amelie was putting her nose in the air, giving herself airs, and if there was one thing in the world Dorothy could not stand, it was that. Then, to fortify the mischievous spirit, she
