name it," said he, rather anxiously.

"Name what?" said she, startled, for her thoughts had gone far
afield.

"Oh, name my going once or twice to the theatre!"

"No, I shan't name it!" said she. "No one here would care to hear
it."

But it was with some little surprise, and almost with a feeling of
disgust, that she heard Richard join with her father in condemning
some one, and add to Mr Bradshaw's list of offences, by alleging that
the young man was a playgoer. He did not think his sister heard his
words.

Mary and Elizabeth were the two girls whom Ruth had in charge; they
resembled Jemima more than their brother in character. The household
rules were occasionally a little relaxed in their favour, for Mary,
the elder, was nearly eight years younger than Jemima, and three
intermediate children had died. They loved Ruth dearly, made a great
pet of Leonard, and had many profound secrets together, most of which
related to their wonders if Jemima and Mr Farquhar would ever be
married. They watched their sister closely; and every day had some
fresh confidence to make to each other, confirming or discouraging to
their hopes.

Ruth rose early, and shared the household work with Sally and Miss
Benson till seven; and then she helped Leonard to dress, and had a
quiet time alone with him till prayers and breakfast. At nine she
was to be at Mr Bradshaw's house. She sat in the room with Mary and
Elizabeth during the Latin, the writing, and arithmetic lessons,
which they received from masters; then she read, and walked with
them, they clinging to her as to an elder sister; she dined with her
pupils at the family lunch, and reached home by four. That happy
home--those quiet days!

And so the peaceful days passed on into weeks, and months, and years,
and Ruth and Leonard grew and strengthened into the riper beauty of
their respective ages; while as yet no touch of decay had come on the
quaint, primitive elders of the household.

CHAPTER XX

Jemima Refuses to Be Managed

It was no wonder that the lookers-on were perplexed as to the state
of affairs between Jemima and Mr Farquhar, for they too were sorely
puzzled themselves at the sort of relationship between them. Was it
love, or was it not? that was the question in Mr Farquhar's mind. He
hoped it was not; he believed it was not; and yet he felt as if it
were. There was something preposterous, he thought, in a man nearly
forty years of age being in love with a gi