deacon's rank and merits. "It will make a great difference to us all, as he must necessarily be so much about the house. And if his wife is nice," she added hopefully, "it will be pleasant for the girls-very pleasant, and convenient in many ways."

They made up their minds that his wife would be nice, and that her domestic companionship and parochial assistance would be of the utmost value. They waxed quite fervent in their anticipations of the many ways in which she might be utilised, and of the great acquisition that she would be. And when they had done talking together, they went out to return calls, and to tell all the leading families of Wooroona about it.

"It will be so nice to have a lady who is English," said Mrs. Brown repeatedly, as she went from house to house; "the ordinary stamp of curate's wife I really could not have put up with."

And the leading families, though more or less prejudiced in favour of local produce as a general rule, agreed that it was certainly an advantage in a curate's wife to have been brought up at home. They suggested that it might be an advantage in a curate also-since colonial clergymen of the archdeacon's pattern were not to be

picked up every day. Upon the whole, it was manifest that Mrs. Primrose was to be hospitably received, though of course not with the enthusiasm that had attended Mrs. Brown's arrival. The air was still throbbing with the commotion of that event, and it was too early to get up steam again above a moderate pressure.

She-for that became her local designationarrived on a Saturday evening. In the morning the archdeacon received a letter from her husband, in which that gentleman begged to thank Mrs. Brown for so kindly inviting him and his wife to the parsonage until they could establish themselves in a home of their own, and to intimate, with polite regrets, that they had made other arrangements. Mrs. Primrose thought it would give less trouble if they went to the hotel at once, and the landlord of the Black Swan had their rooms ready for them. He hoped to call upon the archdeacon in the evening, and was entirely at his service for the following day. There was no mention of travelling arrangements, and altogether the letter was not agreeable to Mrs. Brown.

"Why don't they come to us, when they know we expect them?" she rather imperiously demanded, "and how absurd to go to the Black

Swan-as if that was a proper place for them! As for giving trouble-rubbish! It is very nice of her to think of that, but she ought to have left me to know my own business best. If I had thought it a trouble, I should not have asked them."

Mrs. Brown was put out by this little act of independence unseemly independence on the part of young people in their position-and by the frustration of her carefully considered plans. Nevertheless, she took a walk to the Black Swan, carrying a bouquet for Mrs. Primrose with her; saw the landlady, overhauled the two rooms provided for the expected guests, suggested the bill of fare for their dinner-for it was seven-o'clock dinner they had ordered, not the modest and appropriate high tea-and was otherwise solicitous for their comfort and welfare. She left a message to the effect that she hoped to see them at the parsonage in the evening, and went home soothed.

It was summer weather, and the days were long. Her daughters were still playing tennis on the new-made lawn, as when she had left them an hour before, though preparations for the evening meal were visible through the dining-room windows. She sauntered into the garden and sat

down to watch them, with a smile on her face; she thought there were no such handsome or clever girls as hers in all that country, or in the wide world, and was so sure of it that she did not mind saying so when in a confidential mood. Grace was tall, with too wide shoulders and a too small waist; and though her hair, eyes, and complexion were good, her nose was broad and her lips thick-features that even the blindest mother had to own were "irregular," and not usually regarded with admiration. Mrs. Brown owned it, but with a confident feeling that the whole was perfect if the parts were not. "What is it," she would say, "that makes the child so good-looking? You see she has not a regular feature in her face, and yet one must remark her anywhere." This was the modest way she spoke of Grace to her casual acquaintances; in the bosom of the family there were no reservations. It was boldly believed and declared that the eldest sister was faultlessly beautiful. She was herself Grace Brown-and any other nose or mouth would have spoiled her. She had no possible rival, except Charlotte, the youngest. Mrs. Brown did think Lottie was as pretty as Grace when she was playing tennis and had a colour. Lottie thought so too; so did Grace. They were a mutual admira

tion society. Charlotte was rather low in stature, but with a neat, slim figure-a better figure than her sister's; and her hair and eyes were dark, her nose straight, her lips thin, and her skin sallow and bloodless. If you had asked the opinion of the leading families of Wooroona, they would have told you that the Miss Browns-the blonde and the brunette, as they liked to be called-were nice, pretty, pleasant girls. That was the first impression they made upon the place. And so they were as nice, pretty, and pleasant as ordinary girls, and no more and no less.

But Mrs. Brown, sitting down to look at them, was lost in admiration. She didn't know which of them looked most lovely, in her white cambric frock, with the flush and shine of excitement in her cheeks and eyes. "Which?" the mother asked herself, with a heart beating high; and it was a large question. It meant a great deal. On one side of the net the girls were playing as partners, and on the other a good-looking man of forty or thereabouts was beating them single-handed-not because he wished, but because he could not help it; and what Mrs. Brown wanted to know was this: "Which of them is the fairest in his eyes? Which of them will he ask for?"

For Mr. Colin Mackenzie was the great man of