h a visitor
as this."

Then, with heavily beating heart, he reached the entrance to the girls'
school, passing through the gate slowly, and listening to the bleating
noise from the boys' side, with the occasional short, sharp barks that
Mr Chute was uttering like a sheepdog driving his flock along the dry
and dusty roads of education towards the green and pleasant pastures of
Academia.

The Reverend Henry Lambent paused for a few moments to compose himself,
and then, wondering at his want of confidence, he entered the schools as
we have seen.

The change that came over him instantly was startling. A moment before
he had expected to be alone with Hazel Thorne, the girls counting for
nothing--he could speak in their presence, and say all he wished--and he
had felt a curious feeling of diffidence and pleasure pervade his
breast. Now all was altered. He was not to be alone with Hazel Thorne,
for his sisters were there, and he needed no showing that there had been
a scene, while his heart told him that his sisters had been taking Miss
Thorne to task for receiving a visit from George Canninge; perhaps they
had come and found him there.

He glanced at Hazel, who stood looking pale and indignant with the
little book in her hand, and from her to his sisters, who both seemed
nervous and excited, consequent upon the encounter that had taken place.

"You here?" he said wonderingly.

There was nothing to wonder at, for it was a matter of course that the
sisters should visit the school, and there was no need for explanations;
but both brother and sisters were agitated, and Rebecca broke out with:

"Yes; we came down to have a little conversation with Miss Thorne upon
the subject of--"

"Speak lower, Rebecca," said the vicar; "we do not wish the children to
hear."

"Exactly, dear Henry," continued Rebecca. "We came down to advise Miss
Thorne, and to--"

"Tell her it was not seemly for her to receive so many gentlemen
visitors," said Beatrice.

"Then Mr Canninge has been here!" said the vicar involuntarily.

"Indeed no, I hope not," cried Rebecca, while Beatrice turned paler than
usual. "Why did you say that?"

The vicar felt that he had made a false move, and he regretted it.

"I met him just now. I thought he might have had a message from Mrs
Canninge."

"We have been speaking seriously to Miss Thorne," continued Rebecca:
"and after a little show of indignation I think she has seen the folly
of her ways, an