"He must have been out of his head."

"That was the conclusion I came to."

"Pray what brought him to your remembrance just then?"

"I was thinking of the different ways people take in the search after happiness."

"And one worth as much as another, I suppose you mean? That is a matter of taste. Mrs. Wishart, I see _your_ happiness is cared for, in having such charming friends with you. O, by the way!--talking of seeing,--_have_ you seen Dulles & Grant's new Persian rugs and carpets?"

"I have been hardly anywhere. I wanted to take Madge to see Brett's Collection of Paintings; but I have been unequal to any exertion."

"Well, the first time you go anywhere, go to Dulles & Grant's. Take her to see those. Pictures are common; but these Turkish rugs and things are not. They are the most exquisite, the most odd, the most delicious things you ever saw. I have been wanting to ruin myself with them ever since I saw them. It's high art, really. Those Orientals are wonderful people! There is one rug--it is as large as this floor, nearly,--well, it is covered with medallions in old gold, set in a wild, irregular design of all sorts of Cashmere shawl colours--thrown about anyhow; and yet the effect is rich beyond description; simple, too. Another,--O, that is very rare; it is a rare Keelum carpet; let me see if I can describe it. The ground is a full bright red. Over this run palm leaves and little bits of ruby and maroon and gold mosaic; and between the palm leaves come great ovals of olive mixed with black, blue, and yellow; shading off into them. I _never_ saw anything I wanted so much."

"What price?"

"O, they are all prices. The Keelum carpet is only fifteen hundred--but my husband says it is too much. Then another Persian carpet has a centre of red and white. Round this a border of palm leaves. Round these another border of deliciously mixed up warm colours; warm and rich. Then another border of palms; and then the rest of the carpet is in blended shades of dark dull red and pink, with olive flowers thrown over it. O, I can't tell you the half. You must go and see. They have immensely wide borders, all of them; and great thick, soft piles."

"Have you been to Brett's Collection?"

"Yes."

"What is there?"

"The usual thing. O, but I haven't told you what I have come here for to-night."

"I thought it was, to see me."

"Yes, but not for pleasure, this time," said the lively lady, laughing.

"I had business--I really do have business sometimes. I came this evening, because I wanted to see you when I could have a chance to explain myself. Mrs. Wishart, I want you to take my place. They have made me first directress of the Forlorn Children's Home."

"Does the epithet apply to the place? or to the children?" Mr. Dillwyn asked.

"Now I _cannot_ undertake the office," Mrs. Burrage went on without heeding him. "My hands are as full as they can hold, and my head fuller. You must take it, Mrs. Wishart. You are just the person."

"I?" said Mrs. Wishart, with no delighted expression. "What are the duties?"

"O, just oversight, you know; keeping things straight. Everybody needs to be kept up to the mark. I cannot, for our Reading Club meets just at the time when I ought to be up at the Home."

The ladies went into a closer discussion of the subject in its various bearings; and Mr. Dillwyn and Madge returned to their chess play. Lois lay watching and thinking. Mr. Burrage looked on at the chess-board, and made remarks on the game languidly. By and by the talk of the two ladies ceased, and the head of Mrs. Burrage came round, and she also studied the chess-players. Her face was observant and critical, Lois thought; oddly observant and thoughtful.

"Where did you get such charming friends to stay with you, Mrs.

Wishart? You are to be envied."

Mrs. Wishart explained, how Lois had been ill, and had come to get well under her care.

"You must bring them to see me. Will you? Are they fond of music? Bring them to my next musical evening."

And then she rose; but before taking leave she tripped across to Lois's couch and came and stood quite close to her, looking at her for a moment in what seemed to the girl rather an odd silence.

"You aren't equal to playing chess yet?" was her equally odd abrupt question. Lois's smile showed some amus.e.m.e.nt.

"My brother is such an idle fellow, he has got nothing better to do than to amuse sick people. It's charity to employ him. And when you are able to come out, if you'll come to me, you shall hear some good music.

Good-bye!"

Her brother! thought Lois as she went off. Mr. Dillwyn, _her_ brother!

I don't believe she likes Madge and me to know him.

Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Chauncey Burrage drove away in silence for a few minutes; then the lady broke out.

"There's mischief there, Chauncey!"

"What mischief?" the gentleman asked innocently.

"Those girls."

"Very handsome girls. At least the one that was visible."

"The other's worse. _I_ saw her. The one you saw is handsome; but the other is peculiar. She is rare. Maybe not just so handsome, but more refined; and _peculiar_. I don't know just what it is in her; but she fascinated me. Ma.s.ses of auburn hair--not just auburn--more of a golden tint than brown--with a gold _reflet_, you know, that is so lovely; and a face--"

"Well, what sort of a face?" asked Mr. Burrage, as his spouse paused.

"Something between a baby and an angel, and yet with a sort of sybil look of wisdom. I believe she put one of Domenichino's sybils into my head; there's that kind of complexion--"

"My dear," said the gentleman, laughing, "you could not tell what complexion she was of. She was in a shady corner."

"I was quite near her. Now that sort of thing might just catch Philip."

"Well," said the gentleman, "you cannot help that."

"I don't know if I can or no!"

"Why should you want to help it, after all?"

"Why? I don't want Philip to make a mis-match."

"Why should it be a mis-match?"

"Philip has got too much money to marry a girl with nothing."

Mr. Burrage laughed. His wife demanded to know what he was laughing at?

and he said "the logic of her arithmetic."

"You men have no more logic in action, than we women have in speculation. I am logical the other way."

"That is too involved for me to follow. But it occurs to me to ask, Why should there be any match in the case here?"

"That's so like a man! Why shouldn't there? Take a man like my brother, who don't know what to do with himself; a man whose eye and ear are refined till he judges everything according to a standard of beauty;--and give him a girl like that to look at! I said she reminded me of one of Domenichino's sybils--but it isn't that. I'll tell you what it is. She is like one of Fra Angelico's angels. Fancy Philip set down opposite to one of Fra Angelico's angels in flesh and blood!"