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It was a pretty rooeraniuent with colour, in the -boxes at the open s Sunshine paused delicately just inside, where forms of pale-blue birds and lavender flowers curled up and down the cretonne curtains; and a teue; for there fluffily reclined, in garentle colours, the prettiest twenty-year-old girl in that creditably supplied town

It er would have taken Florence at first glance to be her niece, though everybody admitted that Florence's hair was pretty ("I'll say that for her," was the fa it) Florence did not care for her hair herself; it was dark and thick and long, like her Aunt Julia's; but Florence--even in the realistic presence of a mirror--preferred to think of herself as an ashen blonde, and also as about a foot taller than she was Persistence kept this picture habitually in herthat she was justified in wearing that manner of superciliousness deplored by her entlemen than are suspected believe that they look like the waspen youths in the azine advertisements of clothes; and this impression of theirs accounts (as with Florence) for ly inexplicable in their behaviour

Florence's Aunt Julia was reading an exquisitely old upon the cover; and it had evidently reached her by a recent delivery of thecancelled staue It was a special sort of book, since its interior was not printed, but all laboriously written with pen and ink--poe more references to a lady named Julia than have appeared in any other poe as to be rather pink, though not alith entire approval, this Julia nevertheless, at the sound of footsteps, closed the book and placed it beneath one of the cushions assisting the chaise longue towas not enthusiastic

"What do you want, Florence?"

"I was going to ask you if Herbert and ave you Fifi and Mimi, Aunt Julia?"

"Noble Dill? No"

"I wish it was," Florence said "I'd like these cats better if they were from Noble Dill"

"Why?" Julia inquired "Why are you so partial to Mr Noble Dill?"