ool.

The rector's daughter might have been a year or so older than her
companion; she looked more. Her position in the village had been
one of much anxiety, and she was fast getting an old head on
young shoulders. The other young lady was a slip of a girl just
coming out; in fact, this was the first visit which she had ever
paid out of leading strings. She had lived in a happy home, where
she had always been trusted and loved, and perhaps a thought too
much petted.

There are some natures which attract petting; you can't help
doing your best to spoil them in this way, and it is
satisfactory, therefore, to know (as the fact is) that they are
just the ones which cannot be so spoilt.

Miss Mary was one of these. Trustful, for she had never been
tricked; fearless, for she had never been cowed; pure and bright
as the Englebourn brook at fifty yards from its parent spring in
the chalk, for she had a pure and bright nature, and had come in
contact as yet with nothing which could soil or cast a shadow.
What wonder that her life gave forth light and music as it glided
on, and that every one who knew her was eager to have her with
them, to warm themselves in the light and rejoice in the music!

Besides all her other attractions, or in consequence of them for
anything I know, she was one of the merriest young women in the
world, always ready to bubble over and break out into clear
laughter on the slightest provocation. And provocation had not
been wanting during the last two days which she had spent with
her cousin. As usual she had brought sunshine with her, and the
old doctor had half forgotten his numerous complaints and
grievances for the time. So the cloud which generally hung over
the house had been partially lifted, and Mary, knowing and
suspecting nothing of the dark side of life at Englebourn
Rectory, rallied her cousin on her gravity, and laughed till she
cried at the queer ways and talk of the people about the place.

As soon as they were out of hearing of Dame Winburn, Mary began--

"Well, Katie, I can't say that you have mended your case at all."

"Surely you can't deny that there is a great deal of character in
Betty's face?" said Miss Winter.

"Oh, plenty of character; all your people, as soon as they begin
to stiffen a little and get wrinkles, seem to be full of
character, and I enjoy it much more than beauty; but we were
talking about beauty, you know."

"Betty's son is the handsomest young man in th