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Lotty was decidedly clever when she chose to exert, or rather, I should say, to concentrate her powers. Strong and healthy, quick-witted and warm-hearted, under good management, she promised to turn out a sensible and intelligent woman. But, hot-tempered and self-willed, fond of admiration and amusement, the risk to such a nature from injudicious training was far greater than to that of her little sister. That Lotty would develop rapidly for good or evil was evident. Sybil, on the contrary, might be stunted or withered, but would never run wild.

But they were both interesting children; and Marion was very happy this morning in the receipt of a grateful letter from Harry. A letter which cheered her about him in every way. He had “had a good lesson,” he said, but, thanks to her, had incurred no disgrace; and he begged her to believe that never again would he cause her such sorrow and anxiety. “I won’t make grand promises,” he wrote, “but I think the future will show that I mean what I say. I shall always feel that but for you, dear May, my whole life might have been spoilt. As you ask me not to tease about where you got the money I won’t do so, but I do trust it has not greatly inconvenienced or harassed you.”