for she was warm-hearted, generous and impulsive. Her propensity for mischief interfered, in some degree, with her studies, and she did not graduate until she was nineteen.

She had always spent her vacations at Melville, where her uncle and Mrs. Tremaine resided. She seemed perfectly at home with either; but when she was about to leave school permanently, it was difficult to decide which place to choose.

She had a cousin, Julia Rayne, with whom she could never agree. Her aunt, of course, thought Julia always in the right, and not, perhaps, without sufficient reason; for, as Julia was of rather a jealous disposition, Sophie was delighted to tease her from morning until night. But then there was Cousin Charlie, Julia's brother, who was very fond of Sophie in a brotherly way, and always her firm friend. Her uncle, too, was very kind, and her younger cousins loved her devotedly.

But Mrs. Tremaine had always been so good to her, almost like a mother. She allowed her a great deal of liberty, and yet checked her always when she thought it proper to do so. Sophie knew she would be happier with Mrs. Tremaine, but there was one drawback, even here, to her perfect happiness.

Mrs. Tremaine had a son Willard, her only child. He was a few years older than Sophie, very devoted to his business, and rather grave in manner. Sophie fancied he disliked her, and she was not far from right. But then, he had played the lover to Julia Rayne in a quiet matter-of-fact way for two or three years, and as Julia could never speak of Sophie for five minutes without deploring her wildness and artfulness, it was not to be wondered at that Willard should think Sophie rather disagreeable.

Sophie understood something of this, and she felt a little forlorn as she stood in the parlor that summer afternoon, waiting for Mrs. Tremaine to come down. But when that lady appeared, and kissed her in a sincere and motherly way, and told her she was very glad to have her with her, Sophie's fears began to vanish like the dew before the sun.

"You don't think I did wrong in accept ing your invitation ?" she asked. “I—I'm sure I shall be happier here, and then Aunt Rachel has three daughters, you know."

Here she paused, not knowing what else to say. She did not wish to defame her aunt or cousin, so she concluded it was better to leave her logic a little unsound than to say what she might be sorry for afterward. Mrs. Tremaine seemed to understand her.

"Yes, my dear, I know," she said, with an approving nod. "Your aunt has three daughters, and I have none. She doesn't need you, and I do. So the matter is settled, very satisfactorily, I think."

Sophie went to her room with a light heart. Willard was absent for a few days; she was glad of that. She would become accustomed to her home before he return⚫ed, and then she was sure she wouldn't mind him if he was moody.

The next day, however, her serenity was disturbed by a visit from Julia.

"Every one is astonished at your coming here," she said to Sophie, as soon as they were alone. "It looks so strange, you know, when we are living in the same town."

"How is it strange ?" asked Sophie, innocently, opening her eyes.

"Why, it looks as though you were trying to catch Willard Tremaine for a husband," proclaimed Julia, in a severe tone.

"Does it?" asked Sophie, with a comical smile. "Who says so, Julia dear?" "Who?" echoed Julia, hesitating a moment. "Why, everybody, of course." Sophie laughed merrily.

"I heard the same thing," she said. "Or, rather, the same with variations. Instead of everybody's telling you it appeared as though I wished to catch Willard, I heard that you told it to everybody.”"

"For shame!" cried Julia.

"Exactly what they said, my dear-it was a shame for you to do so."

"I wish people would mind their own affairs," said Julia, sharply.

"And so do I," responded Sophie, looking toward her cousin very pointedly.

Julia began to feel uncomfortable. She was not really bad at heart, but she was always jealous of Sophie in everything; and she had long regarded Willard as her own especial property, who would in due time propose and marry her. She had intended to give Sophie a long lecture upon the subject of her general delinquency, and had come, brimful of wrath at what she termed her boldness. But Sophie had

disarmed her at the first thrust. So, making her call as short as possible, she took her leave.

When she was gone, Sophie sat down and pondered the subject deeply for a few moments.

"Of course," she thought, "Julia will tell Willard her version of the story, and he will believe her. That would make him more arrogant, if possible, than ever, and that is entirely unnecessary. I wouldn't care, only, as I am to live here, I would rather be friendly with him for his mother's sake."

So she fully determined to speak to the gentleman upon the subject as soon after his return as a favorable opportunity offered, and assure him that his friendship was all that she desired.

Now this was quite a bold move, and one which only an experienced coquette could have carried out with good effect. But Sophie was very impulsive; and, though she dreaded the undertaking, she was very sanguine as to a favorable result; so she dismissed the matter without much further thought.

A few evenings after Willard Tremaine returned. Sophie resolved to keep her room for that evening, and allow him opportunity for a quiet chat with his mother. But not many moments after his arrival her Aunt Rachel and Cousin Julia were announced, and she was obliged to go down into the parlor to meet them.

She gave Willard only a careless greeting, and received her aunt's reproaches for refusing to live with them, which seemed half in jest, half in earnest, in a very quiet way. Julia was asked for a song, and sang something overwrought and sentimental. Sophie's turn came next, and she recklessly dashed off a wild gay ballad, by way of

contrast.

Of course Willard accompanied Julia and her mother home, and listened to Mrs. Rayne's lamentations because Sophie was such a child, and had not graduated two years before; adding that, as it was, her education was entirely superficial. Julia hoped people would not ascribe any selfish motives to Sophie for going to live with Mrs. Tremaine, and Willard bade them good-night, with the idea that Sophie must be a consummate piece of artfulness.

Next evening, as he sat quietly smoking his cigar upon the back porch at sunset,

some one came quietly out and took a seat near him. He looked up, and beheld a pretty and slightly embarrassed young lady.

"Now for some brilliant acting!" he thought.

Sophie scarcely knew what to say first. She settled the skirts of her pretty white dress, and twisted the ends of her pink sash nervously.

"I wonder if she is going to propose ?" was Willard's ill-natured mental query.

“Mr. Tremaine," she began, softly, “I -I've observed that you seem to dislike and distrust me. I would never have dreamed of the reason if Cousin Julia had not informed me. She said every one would think I was trying to win you for a husband. If I had known it Before I came here to live, I should have acted differently, of course. But, since I am here, I intend to remain as long as your mother desires me to do so. Now, I don't wish to annoy you in any way, for I wish to be your friend. I canie down to tell you so."

If a sudden earthquake had turned the earth up and the sky down, Willard Tremaine could not very well have been more astonished than he was now. He listened attentively to each word as she uttered it, wondering what would come next.

"Well ?" he said, with an incredulous smile, as she paused.

Sophie felt as though she would like to box his ears. But she managed to maintain a tolerable degree of composure.

"Why, of course," she answered, inno'cently, "I would like your friendship in return."

"O" he said, as if startled with a new idea. "You wish to establish a bond of friendship between us? Here is a pencil. If you will make a rough draft of it, I will .have it copied upon parchment, and duly signed and sealed."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Sophie responded, biting her lips to hide her vexation. "If we only understand each other, it is all that is needed."

"Well, I think we do," he remarked, reflectively. "You wish me to understand that you don't contemplate any entangling matrimonial alliances at present?"

Sophie nodded, and rose from her seat, all smiles and self-possession.

"You are right," she said, sweetly. husband is the last thing in the world that

I desire. But, even if I did wish for one, I'm very sure I shouldn't want you!"

She swept into the house, leaving Willard with the impression that the half had not been told him.

"Of all artful subterfuges," he said, "this is the boldest that ever came to my knowledge! Julia needn't call her childish, hereafter."

Sophie went up to her room feeling that she had been thoroughly misunderstood. She could have cried at the failure of her experiment, only she was too vexed for that.

Never mind!" she said, wrathfully. "I'll bring him to terms yet. I think I understand him now, quite as well as he. does me."

Next morning, when Willard came down stairs, Sophie was just returning from a walk. She wore a pair of thick but neat boots, a well-fitting suit of linen, and a most becoming hat. She carried in her hand a bouquet of fresh wild flowers, and her cheeks were flushed with exercise. He watched her as she went up to kiss his mother good-morning, and came to the conclusion that she was pretty and graceful, to say the least. Thinking further upon the subject, he wondered why his mother had never discovered the petty foibles in her disposition that Julia was so constantly harping upon.

That evening, when he took a cigar for his usual smoke upon the porch, he fully expected that Sophie would present herself with another problem to solve, and he began to feel like a martyr as he pictured her breaking up all his bachelor reveries, and practising her arts for his benefit.

He waited until past his usual hour, hoping she would come, for he was quite will ing to play martyr for the sake of having her appear ridiculous, but she did not He rose, at last, and went into the parlor. Through the front windows he saw Sophie, tastefully attired, and chatting gayly with her cousin Charley Rayne.

come.

Quite disgusted, he went out for a walk in the garden, and when he returned, he found Sophie in his mother's room, reading aloud from a popular magazine. He paused a moment at the door.

"Come in, Willard," his mother said, "and hear this story; Sophie has only just commenced it."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment,

hoping Sophie would second the invitation, but she did not. So he went in and took a seat. Sophie went quietly on with her reading, seeming to ignore him completely. She had a sweet voice, and she read more than well. Willard became interested in both the reader and the story.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Tremaine said, when she had finished. "My eyes are growing dim, and soon tire. To be able to read well is a very desirable accomplishment, in my estimation. I think it preferable to many that young ladies acquire in these days. If you are not weary, I wish you would read me the local news of the village paper which came to-night."

Sophie took it, with the remark that she was very glad to be able to confer so slight a favor, and at once dipped into the news. The very last item, and in conspicuous characters, was an announcement of a picnic which was to be held two days later, in a grove near the village.

"That will be very pleasant," said Mrs. Tremaine. "You will attend, with Sophie, of course," she observed to Willard, who had quietly listened until now.

"I-in truth, mother," he began, evidently greatly annoyed at the request, "I fear I am already engaged for Thursday. I'm very sorry indeed, but-"

"You ought to consult my wishes in some degree," his mother returned, in a vexed tone. "Even if you are engaged, I cannot see why that would interfere with your escorting Sophie also."

"It would give me great pleasure to do so, as far as I myself am concerned," he answered, looking toward Sophie as though. he expected her to decline and relieve him. from his embarrassment. But she did nothing of the kind. She sat coolly watching the drift of the conversation, and, as Willard looked up, she quietly helped herself to a drink of ice-water.

The truth was, he was not engaged to take any one to the picnic. He expected to escort Julia, of course, but had been quite busy during the day, and had not asked her, for he supposed she would prepare to go with her brother, at any rate, and he could speak of it at the last mo ment. But he did not wish either his mother or Sophie to think he was going to play the devotee to Sophie constantly. After thinking the matter over, he came to the conclusion that he ought to invite her

this time, after all that had been said. Just then she rose to go to her room. She bade them good-night, but Willard called her back.

"Miss Sophie!"

She turned quietly.

"If you will consent to attend the picnic with me in company with another lady, I shall be very glad to escort you."

He spoke apologetically, for he felt quite ashamed of himself, even though he thought she might have had the delicacy to decline before.

"Thank you," Sophie answered, quietly. "I shouldn't have the slightest objection to accompany you with another lady, if I were not already engaged to attend the picnic with another gentleman. Under the circumstances, you will perceive it is necessary for me to decline your very polite invitation, however much I may regret that I am compelled to do so. Good-night."

Mrs. Tremaine laughed merrily as Sophie left the room. The girl looked so demure as she declined to go, as though it were really a great trial for her to refuse, that the whole thing appeared extremely absurd. Willard laughed, too, though at his own expense."

Next day Willard went early to call upon Julia, and engage for her to accompany him to the picnic.

66

"Why, Willard," she said, we have talked of it so long, and I did not suppose you would be home in time, and so I-" "Well, what?" he asked, beginning to grow impatient.

"I promised James Lewis to attend the picnic with him. But you must go, too," she added, seeing he looked rather blank. "Why don't you take Sophie ?"

"Sophie is already engaged to go with some one else," he replied, unguardedly. "How do you know?"

"Because I asked-she told me so." "So you invited Sophie to go with you first?" Julia exclaimed, angrily.

He was obliged to confess that he had. He tried to explain, but she would not listen. Finding it of no use to expostulate with her, he left in an unenviable frame of mind. He had felt an affection for Julia for a long time, and always fancied her very gentle and amiable. He would not have cared so much for the disappointment about the picnic, but he began to fear that her temper was not of the pleasantest kind when aroused.

Besides this, he knew that he would appear ridiculous in Sophie's eyes if he attended the picnic alone. He fancied that she was going with her Cousin Charley, and it was quite probable she knew that James Lewis was to act as Julia's escort. He could not go from house to house throughout the village in search of a lady, for in all probability they were engaged before this time, and he did not wish to give the affair greater publicity.

In his perplexity he called upon Charley Rayne, and asked his assistance. Charley had the whole story from Sophie, who charged him, on penalty of her most severe displeasure, to refrain from giving any help or advice in the case. But Willard was really a favorite of Charley's, and as he did not stand in awe of Sophie's displeasure, he relented as soon as he heard the doleful account which Willard gave of the affair.

Never mind," he said. "I'm going to take two ladies, and I'm sure I can persuade one of them to accompany you. Sophie, sister Kate and I were going together, but if you care to act as Kate's escort, I don't doubt she would willingly consent to it."

Willard felt relieved. Kate was only a schoolgirl, but as the families were very intimate, nothing would be thought of it. Charlie set out for home, to make sure of the thing at once, and met Kate and Sophie on the way. He explained his mission, and both girls laughed merrily.

"Julia is in hysterics because Willard asked her second," laughed Kate, "so of course I am number three. I guess I'll decline with thanks."

"No, Kate," said Sophie, "you must accept at once. If you will, and will agree to torment him and give him all the trouble you can, I'll give you my new pink sash and slippers you admired so much to wear to-morrow."

Kate promised; and although Charley declared it was hardly fair, he was obliged to consent and say nothing about it; so the affair was settled.

Quite early next morning Julia and Mr. Lewis set out for the grounds, for they were both on the committee of arrangements. About an hour afterward Charley called for Sophie, who came down in a pretty white dress, looped up with naturallooking deep golden butterflies instead of