he did not set me down soon, I resolved to
make her glad to do so. Further I resolved, that when we came to the
foot-bridge, which had but one rail to it, I would run the pin into
her and make her let me go, when I would instantly throw myself into
the river, for I would run the risk of being drowned rather than go to
that school. Were all my griefs of yesterday, overcome and on the
point of being forgotten, to be frustrated in this fashion? My whole
blood was boiling. I was convinced my father did not want me to go. He
could not have been so kind to me during the night, and then send me
to such a place in the morning. But happily for the general peace,
things did not arrive at such a desperate pass. Before we were out of
the gate, my heart leaped with joy, for I heard my father calling,
"Mrs. Mitchell! Mrs. Mitchell!" I looked round, and seeing him coming
after us with his long slow strides, I fell to struggling so violently
in the strength of hope that she was glad to set me down. I broke from
her, ran to my father, and burst out crying.

"Papa! papa!" I sobbed, "don't send me to that horrid school. I can
learn to read without that old woman to teach me."

"Really, Mrs. Mitchell," said my father, taking me by the hand and
leading me towards her, where she stood visibly flaming with rage and
annoyance, "really, Mrs. Mitchell, you are taking too much upon you! I
never said the child was to go to that woman's school. In fact I don't
approve of what I hear of her, and I have thought of consulting some
of my brethren in the presbytery on the matter before taking steps
myself. I won't have the young people in my parish oppressed in such a
fashion. Terrified with dogs too! It is shameful."

"She's a very decent woman, Mistress Shand," said the housekeeper.

[Illustration]

"I don't dispute her decency, Mrs. Mitchell; but I doubt very much
whether she is fit to have the charge of children; and as she is a
friend of yours, you will be doing her a kindness to give her a hint
to that effect. It _may_ save the necessity for my taking further and
more unpleasant steps."

"Indeed, sir, by your leave, it would be hard lines to take the bread
out of the mouth of a lone widow woman, and bring her upon the parish
with a bad name to boot. She's supported herself for years with her
school, and been a trouble to nobody."

"Except the lambs of the flock, Mrs. Mitchell.--I like you for
standing up for your friend; but is a woman, be