Princess

erwise. No amount of coaching ever sufficed to pull her through ah examination, or to remove her from the middle of her class. Blanche was a dunce confessedly; she

sang with taste and sweetness, and chattered French with absolute self-confidence and

er, but she depended upon Blanche. Norma saw the difference, and sometimes it vexed her, but generally she was indifferent to it. Her people did not understand her; she was not like them; when barn-door fowls unwittingly hatched eaglets, it was natural that the phenomenon should be beyond their comprehension, and that their ignorance should

the people, the mode of life were all delicious to her, and for the family at Lanarth, her enthusiasm was touching. Mrs. Mason was just her idea of "M

ever sister; certainly the quaint old tales which Pocahontas poured unreservedly into her delighted ears were never told to Norma. What impression lay in the girl's mind of handsome Berkeley Mason,

uests, the bedecking of rooms with evergreens and holly, the absorption of store-room and kitchen, the never-ending consultations with the cook-all the wonderful machinations, the deep mysteries and incantations, which would result in glittering hospitality later on. Realizing this, they suffered lesser matters to pass unheeded, caring naught for social converse, intellectual pleasures, or

te amber perfection, or glowed warmly crimson, with points of brighter hue where the sun fell on them. Heaps of old-fashioned "snowballs" hid golden hearts under a pure white frosting, and cakes, baked in fantastic shapes, like Turks' heads and fluted melons, were rich, warm, brown, or w

as Chris

oultry yard to house her turkeys for the night. They usually roosted in an old catalpa tree near the back gate, earlier in the season; but as Christmas approached Pocahontas found it expedient to turn the key up

too large for him: the legs adorned with flaming scarlet tops, reached nearly to his middle; they flopped up and down at every step, and evinced an evil propensity for wabbling, and br

ery Prince of Darkness, backed by the three Fates and the three Furies, apparently takes possession of the perverse, shallow-pated birds. They wander backward and forward, with an air of vacancy as though they knew not what to do; they pass and repass the yawning portal of the turkey house, with heads erect and eyes fixed on futurity, not only as if they did not

. Three times she engineered the flock successfully up to the open door, and three times the same old brown hen advanced, peere

y at the dusky author of her woe, "I could kill you! Shoo! shoo! Sawney, why don

ing the straps of his boots,

ney had gotten too much boot for his money, and if walking in them was difficult, running was impossible. He held on to them bravely, but that only impeded progress further; the faithles

m somewhere in the background; "here, let me help you," and Nesbit T

"Sawney's intentions were honorable enough. I shall be glad of your assistance-as usual," with

the vision of the old brown sensationalist, and take refuge in their house. Pocahontas closed the door with a sharp bang almost upon

" he said, smiling, "you must excuse me, and let me come some other time. I met your brother on the lo

he pockets of his shooting-coat on the top of an adjacent chicken-coop, and ad

garden fence in a little patch of briers. It was a pretty shot; see, right through the head. I hate to mangle my game. I'd pretty fair sport; the birds are a lit

tomed ground. It's a shame that you had no dog, and dreadfully neglectful of the boys not to have noticed. No, no!" as Thorne moved away from the coop, "you must not leave all those; you have none for yourself, and you'll be dis

Thorne quickly. "I never h

ved at Shirley; it was the Byrd patrimony for generations. His sisters were the closest girl-friends Grace and I ever had, and for years the two families were as one. There were financial troubles handed down from father to son, growing a

Jim Byrd's name. He allowed himself to be persuaded to re-pocket part of the game, particularly a brace of ducks, which the soul of the general loved. As he rose from his seat on the chicken-co

ing it to her shoulder, and laying

lways makes me nervous to see a gun in a woman's hands. Don't pull t

ld, recoiled sharply, striking against her shoulder with such force that she staggered and would have fallen, if Thor

hat he had been, not to have taken better care of her. Fool! fool! to have let her touch that accursed gun! His hand trembled as he loosened her cloak, and passed it tenderly over her shoulder. Dislocated? No; such

ill his bounding pulses, and banish from his eyes the expression he felt glowing within them. And Pocahontas, with her paleness in force again, replied to his inquiries with tremulous but determined lightness, putting aside his self reproaches, and assuming the blame with eager incoherence. She made a terrible mess of it, but Thorne was past all nicety of observation; his onl