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"You might keep some of your kisses for me, Sibyl, I think," said

the lad with a good-natured grumble.

"Ah! but you don't like being kissed, Jim," she cried. "You are a

dreadful old bear." And she ran across the room and hugged him.

James Vane looked into his sister's face with tenderness. "I want

you to come out with me for a walk, Sibyl. I don't suppose I

shall ever see this horrid London again. I am sure I don't want

to."

"My son, don't say such dreadful things," murmured Mrs. Vane,

taking up a tawdry theatrical dress, with a sigh, and beginning

to patch it. She felt a little disappointed that he had not

joined the group. It would have increased the theatrical

picturesqueness of the situation.

"Why not, Mother? I mean it."

"You pain me, my son. I trust you will return from Australia in a

position of affluence. I believe there is no society of any kind

in the Colonies-nothing that I would call society-so when you

have made your fortune, you must come back and assert yourself in

London."