before I had time to answer. "Will you leave him here?"
"Oh, no. I shall take him with me."
"But you are coming in first?" I said, walking towards the drawing-room door.
They both followed. Judith, seeming to be possessed with a spirit of mischief, immediately began to speak.
"Dorris and I have just had another quarrel."
I smiled. I had almost recovered from my annoyance, so I could afford to do so.
"A very serious one!" I exclaimed, tossing my hat on a table, and pushing my hair away from my forehead, while Judith sat down, and began slowly to pull off her gloves.
"One of you," said George, "is a dangerous person to live with,—or is it both?"
"It is Dorris, of course."
"Quite true," I responded meekly. "I am generally in fault."
"Oh, I was only joking," cried my cousin. "One cannot quarrel alone. But," she added, with a loving little smile, "we don't disagree much, after all. I am not afraid of Dorris: I tell her what I think, and then she forgives me. A quarrel with you," turning to George, "would be a much more serious matter."
He was looking over some photographs which lay on the table, and paid no attention to Judith's remark, except to say, in rather an absent manner, "Why?"
"I think," she answered reflectively, "that it would
