four, five, six, seven," she said; "aunt, you are
wrong, I am not one of the youngest; there are three older, and three
younger than me. I am Jack in the middle; and therefore I have a right
to talk to the old people, and to the young ones too; and therefore I
may talk most."

Henry was being gradually worked up by Miss Bessy to think that he
might be as free as she was; and he began with, "Well now, is not that
very odd?"

"My dear Henry," said Mr. Fairchild, "did not you hear Mrs. Goodriche
say she thought that young people should not have all the talk to
themselves?"

"Don't scold him," said Bessy; "he meant no harm."

Mrs. Goodriche looked distressed; her niece saw it, and was quiet for
at least a minute or two, and then she began to talk again as if
nothing had happened.

When tea was over, and everybody risen from the table, before it was
settled what was to be done next, Henry walked out through the glass
doors into the garden--he was going to feed Mag.

Bessy saw him, and called after him; he did not answer her--perhaps he
did not hear her. She called again--he was farther off, and did not
turn.

"You little rogue!" she cried out; "but I will pay you;" and off she
ran after him.

He heard her step and her voice as she called him; he took to his heels
through the shrubbery, and to the gate of the fold-yard--into the
yard--round the barn--amongst the hay-ricks--across a new-mown field,
and over a five-barred gate, using all his speed, and yet gaining no
ground upon her; so back again then he came to where he knew John would
be, and making up to him, he got so behind him that he put him between
Bessy and himself.

There the three were in the fold-yard, Bessy trying to catch Henry, who
was dodging about round John, when Mr. Fairchild, who had followed
Bessy, came up.

"Miss Goodriche," he said, "let me lead you to your aunt, she is asking
for you. My dear young lady," he added, drawing her a little aside,
"let me venture to point out to you, as a father, that it is not
becoming in a girl of your years to be romping with a servant man."

"I was after Henry, sir!" she replied: "it was after him I was going,
sir, I assure you."

"I dare say you set off to run after Henry, my dear young lady," he
replied; "but when I first saw you, you were pushing John about, first
on one side and then on the other, in a way I should call romping; and
am I not right when I say that I think, even now, you have not spoke