should not repeat what papa says," she
answered, severely. "You have often been told that it is naughty."

"But it's true," Jack murmured, doggedly. And Sydney could not help
smiling at the discomfited expression on "Nan's" face.

However, he was--or thought he was--quite equal to the occasion. He
changed the subject, and began talking adroitly about her tastes and
occupations. Nan soon became at ease with him and answered his questions
cheerfully, although she seemed puzzled now and then by the strain of
compliment into which he had a tendency to fall. The house was reached
at last; and Jack snatched his hands from those of his companions, and
ran indoors. Nan halted at a side-door, and now spoke with the sweet
earnestness that impressed Sydney even more than her lovely face.

"You have been very kind to us, Mr. Campion. I don't know how to thank
you."

It was on the tip of Sydney's tongue to use some badinage such as he
would have done, in his light and easy fashion, to a servant-maid or
shop-girl. But something in her look caused him, luckily, to refrain. He
went as near as he dared to the confines of love-making.

"Give me the flower you wear," he said, leaning a little towards her.
"Then I shall at least have a remembrance of you."

His tone and his look were warmer than he knew. She shrank back, visibly
surprised, and rather offended. Before he could add a word she had
quietly taken the rosebud from her dress, handed it to him, and
disappeared into the house, closing the door behind her in a somewhat
uncompromising way. Sydney was left alone on the gravelled path, with a
half-withered rosebud in his hand, and a consciousness of having made
himself ridiculous.

"She seems to be rather a little vixen," he said to himself, as he
strolled up to his rooms to make some change in his clothes, which were
damper than he liked. "What business has a pretty little governess to
take that tone? Deuced out of place, I call it. I wonder if she'll be
down to breakfast. She has very fetching eyes."

But she was not down to breakfast, and nothing was said about her, so
Sydney concluded that her meals were taken in the schoolroom with the
children.

"Such a pity--poor dear Nan has a headache," he heard Lady Pynsent
saying by and by. "I hoped that she would come down and give us some
music this evening, but she says she won't be able for it."

Sydney consoled himself with pretty Mrs. Murray.

"The fair violinist is out of