"And how is Harold, Mrs. Burnside?" Esther asked as they sipped their tea.

May gave as favourable an account of his progress as she could, to which Miss Inglis listened thoughtfully. "I'm afraid he has an uphill struggle before him, poor old fellow! Without capital, it seems to me, you can do nothing nowadays? Are there many doctors at Beachbourne?"

"A good many; and, of course, it takes time to make a practice."

"It's always the same old story—want of money!" sighed Esther pessimistically. "Nowadays the competition is something dreadful; and what will it be for the next generation?"

"Why, Esther, you seem in rather a croaking mood!" remonstrated Lulu.

"Well, my dear, going about daily in trains and omnibuses, and having to run the gauntlet of every man who thinks that because a girl works for her living she can't possibly be a lady, doesn't tend to sweeten one's view of life."

"I suppose there are annoyances in every lot," diffidently put in May. "But there are—there really are—worse things than being obliged to earn one's living. You must be so happy here, able to do just as you like, with nobody to worry you."

Esther's brow cleared. "Yes, it's something to be independent, nowadays. And it's too bad to bore you with my grumbles, Mrs. Burnside. I don't often indulge in complaints, do I, Lulu? We three really have a jolly time here; and my salary is to be raised twenty pounds a year, beginning from next month."

"Oh, Esther, how splendid!"

"Yes, we must go on the river, or have some dissipation to celebrate it. Oh! who can that be?" as a loud knock resounded at the outer door.

"My aunt thought I might get lost, and a friend of ours—Mr. Lang—offered to call for me," said May, flushing. "He is earlier than I expected—I hope you don't mind his coming?"

"Oh, dear, no!" nonchalantly responded Esther, as Lulu bustled out to admit Mr. Lang, who entered with his usual bumptious self-confidence. But when his eyes fell upon the superb figure of Esther, he was palpably surprised.

May introduced him; but, while Lulu gave him a friendly greeting, Esther barely condescended to acknowledge his existence. Miss Inglis, late of Mallowfield Hall, was not to be put down by a vulgar plutocrat.

"I must apologise for coming rather early, Mrs. Burnside," he began, "but I didn't quite know how long it would take to get here; I never was in this neighbourhood before. Don't you find it rather out of the way?" he continued, addressing Esther.

"It is rather inconvenient, especially as we don't keep a carriage," she coolly returned. A keen observer of human nature, she had taken Mr. Lang's measure in one haughty glance.

"Nice little place, though," he added patronisingly, intending to be very polite. "That drapery over the mantelpiece is a good idea. Did Liberty do it?"

"I did it myself, with a few yards of cheap cretonne and an ounce of tin-tacks."

"Really! How clever!" he exclaimed, not perceiving that Esther was covertly laughing at him. "Old miniatures, too! Are you a collector? I am; I've got some lovely Cosways."

"Oh, dear, no! these are only some of our ancestors. My father has the best ones, down in Cornwall."

"I've rather a good collection at my house in Palace Gardens. You've seen them, haven't you, Mrs. Burnside? It would give me great pleasure to show them to your young friends, if they care to call some day."

"Thank you; my sister and I are working all day, and have very little time. I am not specially interested in miniatures, except those belonging to our family," replied Esther coldly. May inwardly rejoiced at seeing Mr. Lang meet his match for once.

"I believe you have a brother out in South Africa?" presently asked Mr. Lang, turning to Lulu.

"Yes, at Johannesburg. He's on the staff of the Victorina Mine."

"I believe I've met him somewhere. Rather good-looking, with dark hair, isn't he? He must know me; I'm so well known out there in connection with the Springkloof Mine. Have you heard of the Springkloof, Miss Inglis?"

"Yes," answered that superb young lady, fixing her eyes steadily on him. "I have heard a good deal about it from Jack. He was over in England last summer."

"I'm often going backwards and forwards to Johannesburg," continued Mr. Lang; "I should be glad at any time to take charge of any parcels or letters for your brother, if you will let me know. This is my London address," and he laid his card on the table.

"Thank you, we couldn't think of troubling you."

"No trouble, I assure you. I should be very glad to oblige any—any of Mrs. Burnside's friends."

May crimsoned beneath his significant glance and the scarcely veiled scorn on Esther's fine face. How these girls must despise her for associating with this horrible man! Unable to bear it any longer, she rose to take leave.

"I hope we shall meet again before you go," Lulu said wistfully; but May dared not press them to come and see her aunt, knowing they would only meet a chilly reception from Miss Waller. "I will write and let you know," she answered hurriedly.

"Perhaps you young ladies might like a drive in the Park occasionally?" suggested Mr. Lang. "I'd be very happy to send my carriage."

"Thank you," responded Esther, who appeared to be spokeswoman on all occasions. "My sister and I work for our living, and have no time for such dissipations. I am employed in a City office."

"Then it's a shame you should have to work—that's all I can say," warmly rejoined Mr. Lang. "A woman's place is at home, in a handsome drawing-room, with every comfort about her—not jostling about in the crowd with men."

"Handsome drawing-rooms and an idle life are not within the reach of every woman, nowadays, Mr. Lang," coldly responded Esther, as they shook hands; and the next minute the door closed behind them.

"Horrid man!" cried Esther wrathfully, when the visitors had gone. "Didn't his insufferable patronage make your blood boil? He might well ask if we knew him by name; of course, we do—too well, for, according to Jack, the Springkloof Mine was a byword on the Randt, from the way in which the original owners were cheated out of the property by Mr. Lang and his syndicate. I remember he mentioned this Lang as a man who was well known at Johannesburg to have mixed in many shady transactions."

"What a pity that nice Mrs. Burnside should be obliged to associate with him! He evidently admires her; but, to tell you a secret, Esther, there's somebody who admires her even more—and that's Harold."

"Poor Harold! How can he ever afford to marry? Mrs. Burnside is dependent on her aunt for everything, isn't she?"

"Yes, and her aunt intends her to marry Mr. Lang. Poor thing! I can see she is simply miserable at the idea of it."

Esther took up Mr. Lang's card, to read the address. "He might well say West Kensington was out of the way! If he ever comes again—I don't mean to be at home." And she tore it into the smallest fragments.