not requited by her children, and disposed to be harder
than ever towards Grace, who had inflicted this pain on her.

CHAPTER XV.

A VAN IN THE BRAIDWOOD ROAD.

One bright July morning, Mattie Drummond walked rapidly up the
Braidwood Road, and, unlatching the green door in the wall, let
herself into the large square hall of the vicarage. This morning it
looked invitingly cool, with its summer matting and big wicker-work
chairs; but Mattie was in too great haste to linger; she only stopped
to disencumber herself of the various parcels with which she was
ladened, and then she knocked at the door of her brother's study, and,
without waiting for the reluctant "Come in" that always answered her
hasty rap, burst in upon him.

It was now three months since Mattie had entered upon her new duties,
and it must be confessed that Archie's housekeeper had rather a hard
time of it. As far as actual management went, Mattie fully justified
her mother's eulogiums in her household arrangements: she was orderly
and methodical,--far more so than Grace would have been in her place;
the meals were always punctual and well served, the domestic machinery
worked well and smoothly. Archie never had to complain of a missing
button or a frayed wrist-band. Nevertheless, Mattie's presence at the
vicarage was felt by her brother as a sore burden. There was nothing
in common between them, nothing that he cared to discuss with her, or
on which he wished to know her opinion; he was naturally a frank,
outspoken man, one that demanded sympathy from those belonging to him;
but with Mattie he was reticent, and as far as possible restrained in
speech.

One reason for this might be that Mattie, with all her virtues,--and
she was really a most estimable little person,--was sadly deficient in
tact. She never knew when she was treading on other people's pet
prejudices. She could not be made to understand that her presence was
not always wanted, and that it was as well to keep silence sometimes.

She would intrude her advice when it was not needed, in her
good-natured way; she had always interfered with everything and
everybody. "Meddlesome Mattie" they had called her at home.

She was so wonderfully elastic, too, in her temperament, that nothing
long depressed her. She took all her brother's snubbings in excellent
part: if he scolded her at dinner-time, and made the ready tears come
to her eyes,--for it was not the least of Mattie's sins that she