al minutes, the door open and the low winter sun shining upon
them. Bessie did not speak--she could not. She gazed at the children,
pale herself and trembling all over. Justus began to ask where was
grandpapa, and Laury repeated his question like a lisping echo. There
was no answer to give them, but they were soon pacified in the old
nursery where their father had played, and were made quite happy with a
grand parade of new toys on the floor, expressly provided for the
occasion. Bed-time came early, and Bessie was relieved when it did come.
Never in the whole course of her life had she felt so hurt, so insulted,
so injured; and yet she was pained, intensely pained, for the old man
too. Perhaps he had meant her to be so, and that was her punishment.
Jonquil could give her no information as to whither his master had
gone, but he offered a conjecture that he had most probably gone up to
London.

If it was any comfort to know that the old servants of the house
sympathized with her, Bessie had that. They threw themselves heart and
soul into the work of promoting the pleasure of the little visitors.
Jonquil proved an excellent substitute for grandpapa, and Macky turned
out an inexhaustible treasury of nice harmless things to eat, of funny
rhymes to sing, and funny stories to tell in a dramatic manner. Still,
it was a holiday spoilt. It was not enjoyed in the servants' hall nor in
the housekeeper's room. No amount of Yule logs or Yule cakes could make
a merry Christmas of it that year. All the neighbors had heard with
satisfaction that Mr. Fairfax's little grandsons were to be brought to
Abbotsmead, and such as had children made a point of coming over with
them, so that the way in which Miss Fairfax's effort at peacemaking had
failed was soon generally known, and as generally disapproved. Mrs.
Stokes, that indignant young matron, qualified the squire's behavior as
"Quite abominable!" but she declared that she would not vex herself if
she were Miss Fairfax--"No, indeed!" Bessie tried hard not. She tried to
be dignified, but her disappointment was too acute, and her
grandfather's usage of her too humiliating, to be borne with her
ordinary philosophy.

She let her uncle Laurence know what had happened by letter, and on the
day fixed for the children to go home again she went with them, attended
by Mrs. Betts as before. Mr. Laurence Fairfax was half amused at the
method by which his father had evaded Bessie's bold attempt to rule