nk you are
the nicest people anywhere; and as to your dogs, they are simply
glorious. Might not I come here again some day, and--and bring my
sisters with me? They are twins, you know. Do you mind twins?"

"Bless your sweet voice!" said Mrs. Miles; "is it a-minding twins we be
when we has two sets ourselves?"

"My sisters are very nice, considering that they are twins," said Betty,
who was always careful not to overpraise her own people; "and they are
just as fond of dogs as I am. Oh, by the way, we have a lovely spider--a
huge, glorious creature. His name is Dickie, and he lives in an attic at
the Court. He's as big as this." Betty made an apt illustration with her
fingers.

"Lor', miss, he must be an awful beast! We're dead nuts agen spiders at
the Stoke Farm."

Betty looked sad. "It is strange," she said, "how no one loves Dickie
except our three selves. We won't bring him, then; but may _we_ come?"

"It all depends, miss, on whether Mrs. Haddo gives you leave. 'Tain't
the custom, sure and certain, for young ladies from the Court to come
a-visiting at Stoke Farm; but if so be she says yes, you'll be heartily
welcome, and more than welcome. I can't say more, can I, miss?"

"Well, I have had a happy time," said Betty; "and now I must be going
back."

"But," said the farmer, "missie, you surely ain't going to get over that
big fence the same way as you come here?"

"And what else should I do?" said Betty.

"'Taint to be done, miss. There's a drop at our side which makes the
fence ever so much higher, and how you didn't hurt yourself is little
less than a miracle to me. I'll have the horse put to the cart and drive
you round to the front entrance in a jiffy. Dan and Beersheba can
follow, the run'll do them no end of good."

"Yes, missie, you really must let my husband do what he wishes," said
Mrs. Miles.

"Thank you," said Betty in a quiet voice. Then she added, looking up
into Mrs. Miles's face, "I love Mrs. Haddo very much, and there is one
girl at the school whom I love. I think I shall love you too, for I
think you have understanding. And when I come to see you next--for of
course Mrs. Haddo will give me leave--I will tell you about Scotland,
and the heather, and the fairies that live in the heather-bells; and I
will tell you about our little gray stone house, and about Donald
Macfarlane and Jean Macfarlane. Oh, you will love to hear! You are
something like them, except that unfortunately you are Englis