e me in a pan of water, with the sleeves of my gown pinned above my
elbow.

When the visitors paused to see what we were doing I did not look at
them but went on with my work. There was a good deal of whispering and
laughing among them, and I felt without looking at them that they were
not gentle-folk, at least such gentle-folk as I knew.

But presently I had the most painful sense of being stared out of
countenance, and lifting my eyes I found the eyes of one of the visitors
fixed upon me with so rude and insolent a gaze that the colour rushed
into my cheeks as though some one had struck me.

The person was a youngish man, dressed in what I took to be the height
of fashion. We know little enough about fashion, and my grandfather's
knee-breeches and frilled shirt were very smart in the Forties. The
young man had red hair and very bold blue eyes; his complexion was
ruddy, and his strong white teeth showed under his red moustache.

At the moment of looking at him I was aware of the greatest aversion and
fear within myself. I lowered my eyes and devoted myself to what I was
doing, painfully conscious all the time of the colour in my cheeks which
must make me conspicuous to those who were looking at me. I heard a
little giggle; then the voice of one of the ladies very slightly
subdued--

"Oh, come away, Dick. Don't you see how you are making that poor girl
blush?"

To my relief I heard them go, but it was some time before I could
recover myself.

I had no idea at all but that they were chance visitors brought into the
neighbourhood by the light railway, but I was soon to be disillusioned.

Several times that day I caught the eyes of a very pretty and
innocent-looking girl, named Nora Brady, fixed on me, and there was
something odd about her look; so much so that later in the day, as I was
putting on my hat to go home, while Nora was preparing to start without
any such formality, I suddenly asked her--

"Why have you been looking at me now and again to-day as though you were
going to say something to me?"

To my amazement she blushed hotly and stammered something about not
having known that she was looking at me.

"Never mind, Nora," I said, pitying her confusion; "a cat may look at a
king, you know. Not that I'm a king nor a queen either."

"Oh, indeed, Miss Bawn," she said, blushing again. "You're pretty enough
to be the Queen. Sure that's why poor Master Richard stared at you, not
meaning to be impudent at