A Very Naughty Girl. Meade L. T.

remarked; and she added: “I am well-born too. There was a time when I should not have been at all shy of Audrey Wynford.”

      “You are very queer,” said Evelyn. “I do not know that I particularly want you for a friend.”

      “Well, never mind; I think I can get you to love me,” said Sylvia. “But now the question is this: Will Audrey let me stay or will she not? Will you, Audrey – will you – just because my name is Sylvia and we have met in the Forest of Arden?”

      “Oh dear,” said Audrey, “what a difficult question you ask! And how can I answer it? I dare not give you leave all by myself, but I will go and inquire.”

      Audrey ran immediately out of the room.

      “What a wonderful change has come into my life!” she said to herself as she flew down-stairs and looked into different rooms, but all in vain, for Miss Sinclair.

      Her mother was out; it was hopeless to think of appealing to her. Without the permission of some one older than herself she could not possibly ask Sylvia to stay. Sylvia could be more or less lost in the crowd of children who would be at the Castle that evening, but her mother’s eyes would quickly seek out the unfamiliar face, inquiries would be made, and – in short, Audrey did not dare to take this responsibility on herself. She was rushing up-stairs again, prepared to tell Sylvia that she could not grant her request, when she came plump up against her father.

      “My dear girl, what a hurry you are in!” he exclaimed.

      “Oh yes, father,” replied Audrey. “I am excited. The house is full of life and almost mystery.”

      “Then you like your cousin to be here?” said the Squire, and his face brightened.

      “Yes and no,” answered Audrey truthfully. “But, father, I have a great request to make. You know you said that Evelyn was to have a free day to-day in which she could do as she pleased. She has a guest up-stairs whom she would like to ask to stay. May she ask her, father? She is a girl, and lonely and pretty, and, I think, on the whole, a lady. May we both ask her to dinner and to spend the evening? And will you, father, take the responsibility?”

      “Of course – of course,” said the Squire.

      “Will you explain to mother when she returns?”

      “Yes, my dear – certainly. Ask anybody you please; I never restrain you with regard to your friends. Now do not keep me, my love; I am going out immediately.”

      CHAPTER VIII. – EVENING-DRESS

      When Audrey re-entered Evelyn’s pretty boudoir she found the two girls standing close together and talking earnestly. Jasper also was joining in the conversation. Audrey felt her heart sink.

      “How can Evelyn make free with Jasper as she does? And why does Sylvia talk to Evelyn as though they were having secrets together? Why, they only met to-day!” was the girl’s thought. Her tone, therefore, was cold.

      “I met father, and he says you may stay,” she remarked in a careless voice. “And now, as doubtless you will be quite happy, I will run away and leave you, for I have much to do.”

      “No, no; not until I have thanked you and kissed you first,” said Sylvia.

      Audrey did not wish Sylvia to kiss her, but she could not make any open objection. She scarcely returned the girl’s warm embrace, and the next moment had left the room.

      “Is she not a horror?” said Evelyn. “I began by liking her – I mean I rather liked her. She had a grand sort of manner, and her eyes are handsome, but I hate her now. She is not half, nor quarter, as pretty as you are, Sylvia. And, oh, Sylvia, you will be my friend – my true, true friend – for I am so lonely now that mothery is dead!”

      Sylvia was standing by the fire. There was a bright color in both her cheeks, and her eyes shone vividly.

      “My mother died too,” she said. “I was happy while she lived. Yes, Eve, I will be your friend if you like.”

      “It will be all the better for you,” said Evelyn, who could never long forget her own importance. “If I take to you there is no saying what may happen, for, whatever lies before me in the future, I am my Uncle Edward’s heiress; and Audrey, for all her pride, is nobody.”

      “Audrey looks much more suitable,” said Sylvia, and then she stopped, partly amused and partly frightened by the look in Evelyn’s light-brown eyes.

      “How dare you!” she cried. “How horrid – how horrid of you! After all, I do not know that I want to see too much of you. You had better be careful what sort of things you say to me. And first of all, if I am to see any more of you, you must tell me why Audrey would make a better heiress than I shall.”

      “Oh, never mind,” said Sylvia; but then she added: “Why should I not tell you? She is tall and graceful and very, very lovely, and she has the manners of a grande dame although she is such a young girl. Any one in all the world can see that Audrey is to the manner born, whereas you – ”

      Evelyn looked almost frightened while Sylvia was talking.

      “Is that really so?” she answered. “I ought to be just mad with you, but I’m not. Before the year is out no one will compare Audrey and me. I shall be much, much the finest lady – much, much the grandest. I vow it; I declare it; I will do it; and you, Sylvia, shall help me.”

      “Oh, I have no objection,” said Sylvia. “I am very glad indeed that you will want my help, and I am sure you are heartily welcome.”

      Evelyn looked full up at Sylvia. Jasper had left the two girls together. The only light in the room now was the firelight, for the short winter day was drawing to an end.

      “You, I suppose,” said Evelyn, “are a lady although you do wear such a shabby dress and you suffer so terribly from hunger?”

      “How do you know?” asked Sylvia.

      “First, because you are not afraid of anything; and second, because you are graceful and, although you are so very queer, your voice has a gentle sound. You are a lady by birth, are you not?”

      “Yes,” said Sylvia simply. She neither added to the word not took from it. She became very silent and thoughtful.

      “Why do you live in such a funny way? Why are you not educated like other girls? And why will you tell me nothing about your home?”

      “I have nothing to tell. My father and I came to live at The Priory three months ago. He does not care for society, and he does not wish me to leave him.”

      “And you are poor?”

      “No,” said Sylvia.

      “Not poor! And yet, why are you almost in rags? And you did eat up your lunch so greedily!”

      “I will answer nothing more, Evelyn. If you do not like me as I am, let me go now, and I will try to forget the beautiful, comfortable Castle, and the lovely meals, and you and your queer maid Jasper, and the beautiful girl Audrey; for if you do not want me as I am, you can never get me any other way. I am a lady, and we are not poor. Now are you satisfied?”

      “I burn with curiosity,” said Evelyn; “and if mothery were alive, would she not get it out of you! But if you wish it – and your eyes do look as if they were daggers – I will change the subject. What shall we do for the rest of the day? Shall we go out and take a walk in the dark?”

      “Yes; that would be lovely,” cried Sylvia.

      Evelyn shouted in an imperious way to Jasper.

      “Bring my fur cloak,” she said, “and my goloshes. I won’t wear anything over my head. I am going out with Miss Sylvia Leeson.”

      Jasper brought Evelyn’s cloak, which was lined with the most lovely squirrel inside and covered with bright crimson outside, and put it over her shoulders. Sylvia in her very shabby black cloth jacket, much too short in the waist and in the arms, accompanied her. They ran down-stairs and went out into the grounds.

      Now, if there was one thing more than another