ogy.

The Squire, with a brow all clouds, observed that when children
were bow-legged it was entirely the fault of their mothers.

'Ah, yes,' said the Rector, with a sigh. 'Mrs. Leonard is a
slatternly woman--no doubt of that. But when you've said that you
haven't cured the child.'

The Squire ungraciously said he would consider it; and the Rector,
knowing well that he would get no more at a first assault, let the
child alone, and concentrated on the topic of Elizabeth.

'An extraordinarily capable creature,' he said warmly, 'and a good
heart besides. You were indeed lucky to find her, and you are very
wise to give her her head. The village folk can't say enough about
her.'

The Squire felt his mouth twitching. With some horses, is there any
choice--but Hobson's--as to 'giving' them their head?

'Yes, she's clever,' he said grudgingly.

'And it was only to-day,' pursued the Rector, 'that I heard her
story from a lady, a friend of my wife's, who's been spending Sunday
with us. She seems to have met Miss Bremerton and her family at
Richmond a year or so ago, where everybody who knew them had a great
respect for them. The mother was a nice, gentle body, but this elder
daughter had most of the wits--though there's a boy in a Worcester
regiment they're all very fond and proud of--and she always looked
after the others, since the father--who was a Civil servant--died,
six years ago. Then two years since, she engaged herself to a young
Yeomanry officer--'

'Eh--what?--what do you say?--a Yeomanry officer?' said the Squire,
looking round.

'Precisely--a Yeomanry officer. They were engaged and apparently
very happy. He was a handsome, upstanding fellow, very popular with
women. Then he went out to Egypt with his regiment, and it was
intended they should marry when he got his first leave. But
presently his letters began to change. Then they only came at long
intervals. And at last they stopped. He had complained once of an
attack of sunstroke, and she was wretched, thinking he was ill. At
last a letter reached her from a brother officer, who seems to have
behaved very kindly--with the explanation. Her fiance had got into
the clutches--no one exactly knew how--of a Greek family living in
Alexandria, and had compromised himself so badly with one of the
daughters, that the father, a cunning old Greek merchant, had
compelled him to marry her. Threats of exposure, and all the rest!
The brother officer hinted at a plot--th