aymond, her heart gave a little throb of exultation. Tom Raymond was the best tennis-player she knew. To

e Miss Smith,-did not see Tilly draw back, did not hear her say, "No, I don't care to play, Miss Smith

came flying back again, to be returned by Tom Raymond's vigorous stroke. Agnes regarded this stroke with due admiration. "Neither Will nor Tilly can match that," she thought; and at the thought she looked over and across the netting, to see a girl's uplifted arm swinging easily forward, the racket hitting the ball lightly with a swift, sure, upward, and o

else, and the ball sent so surely back to her dropped to the ground before her partner could rescue it. An exclamation of disappointment from Tom added to her disc

y racket; I'm not goin

y? What do you me

rise-party and to playing with stran

himself and stopped. He was about to say

what he meant, and turned scornfully away, her head up, and with

, had approached Miss Smith, and was evidently making some sort of apology to her for the insult that had

nes, had flung down,-Tilly standing in her place and-and-serving the ball back to that girl! So Tilly was with them too? Well, she would see, they would all see, that Agnes Brendon was not a person to be snubbed and disregarded in th

nct parties in the house, where heretofore ther

but they were inclined to be worldly and were greatly under Agnes's influence. She had been a sort of authority with them for a good while,

a day or two after the tennis affair; for Agnes had at once set to work to carry out her plan of showing that she was not to be

lly's words, but s

t persecuting to avoid a per

nd when I asked her to be quieter, she said something horrid about 'low common songs,' and 'Mrs. Brady' isn't a low common song; and the other morning, when Pete, the little dog, ran up to her on the piazza, she pushed him away from her in such a disagreeable manner-and so it has gone on every day, and I think it's a shame, and such a nice girl as Miss Smith is too. I told grandmother a

ion anyway,-that's ridiculous. Agnes is very exclusive,-the Brendons all are

n you or I. She's a very ladylike girl.-much more la

d her hair all pulled back without the sign of a c

t of us girls are; but her clothes are of th

material, I suppose; and the little yellow dog's coa

st. She's a little old-fashioned; that's all.

ry provoking smi

me, will take a fancy to her too,

away. She knew perfectly well that Dora was thinking: "Oh, your grandmother is

e,-ever since, in fact, she had ranged herself on Agnes's side after the tennis affair; but once having taken that si

ly allies. Every minute that had elapsed since she had flung down her tennis racket in such anger and mortification had but increased thi

unfavorable, so perverted and distorted had her vision become. It was "Dora, did you notice this?" and "Amy, did you see that?" until the two began to find the

me, unless there was something more worth while to talk about," brok

; then, laughing a little, "unless th

and Dora indignantly repeated Tilly's accusations. Amy caught at the word "persecution," as Dora had done, and

unded the curve of the shore where they were walking, th

hing I want to show you," she exclaimed excitedly. "Come up here

see that?" in reference to some detail that displeased her? They had worked themselves up into quite a state of indignation against Tilly and the boys, and of increased sy

gnes was unfolding,-a newspaper? And what was it she was saying as she pointed to a certain column? She wanted them to read that! The cousins lo

hat; re

d this sentence, which in big blac

n, alias

underneath," urged Agnes, as Dora

notorious name, and is now figuring in South America under the name of Smith. His wife and young son are with him, and the three are living luxuriously in the suburbs of Rio, where Smithson has rented a villa.

ace did not disappear as she ca

me to read this for

or? Is it possible that you don't

? We don't know

know thes

you don'

at I am sure that these Smiths ar

think so? Smith is such a v

and she is with a Mrs. Smith, her aunt, and they are st

e, doesn't it?" cried Dora, in a sort of shud

ned to go into the little parlor, where there are writing-materials, and there sat this very Peggy Smith directing a letter; and when she went out, I happened to ca