d on a sharp splinter he stuck it up
before the fire, to the great interest and amusement of the
miller. Another spectator also wandered out there, and she was
presently sent back to the mill.

'Miss Hazel,' said Mrs. Saddler, coming to the 'divan' where
the young lady and her guardian were both sitting,--'Mr. Rollo
says, ma'am, are you ready for him to come in?'

'I am awake, if that is what he means.'

'What do you mean, Mrs. Saddler?'

'If you please, sir, I am sure I don't know what I mean,--but
that's a very strange gentleman, Miss Kennedy. There he's gone
and shot a robin--at least, I suppose it was him for I don't
know who else should have done it-- and his gun's standing by--
and then he's gone and picked it ma'am--picked the feathers
off, and they 're lyin' all round; and then he washed it in
the lake, and he was hard to suit, for he walked a good way up
the lake before he found a place where he _would_ wash it; and
now he's made a fire and stuck up the bird and roasted it; and
why he didn't get me or Miss Miller to do it I don't
comprehend. And he's got plates and things, ma'am, and salt,
ma'am, and bread; and that's what _he_ means, sir; and he want's
to know if you're ready. The bird's all done.'

Wych Hazel looked anything but ready. She was very young in
the world's ways, very new to her own popularity, and somehow
Mrs. Saddler's story touched her sensitiveness. The shy,
shrinking colour and look told of what at six years old would
have made her hide her face under her mother's apron. No such
refuge being at hand, however, and she obliged to face the
world for herself, as soon as she had despatched a very
dignified message to Mr. Rollo, the young lady's feeling
sought relief in irritation.

'I suppose _I_ am not to blame this time, for making myself
conspicuous, sir! Have you given me up as a bad bargain, Mr.
Falkirk?'

'It can't be helped, my dear,'--said her guardian somewhat
dryly, and soberly too. 'I think however it is rather somebody
else who is making himself conspicuous at this time.'

He became conspicuous to their vision a minute after,
appearing in the mill door-way with a little dish in his hand
and attended by Phoebe with other appliances; but nothing
mortal could less justify Wych Hazel's sensation of shyness.
With the coolness of a traveller, the readiness of a hunter,
and the business attention of a cook or a courier, both which
offices he had been filling, he went about his a