etimes she felt vexed at the
lengthened absence of her friend and "guardian," as she persisted in
considering him; sometimes the thought of young Nathanael's pale
face crossed her fancy, awakening both sincere compassion and an
uncomfortable doubt that all might not be going on quite right within
the half-drawn window-blinds, at which she now and then darted a curious
glance.

At last her curiosity or interest rose to such a pitch, that it is to
be feared that Agatha in her independent spirit, and ignorance of, or
indifference to the world, might have committed the terrific
impropriety of making a good-natured inquiry at the door of this
bachelor-establishment. She certainly would, had it consisted only of
the harmless youth Nathanael; but then Major Harper, at the mention of
whose name Mrs. Ianson now began to smile aside, and the invalid Jane to
dart towards Agatha quick, inquisitive looks--No; she felt an invincible
repugnance to knocking, on any pretence, at Major Harper's door.

However, having nothing to do and little to think of, and, moreover,
being under the unwholesome necessity of keeping all her thoughts to
herself, her conjectures grew into such a mountain of discomfort--partly
selfish, partly generous, out of the hearty gratitude which had been
awakened in her towards the younger brother since the adventure with
the bear--that Miss Bowen set off one fine morning, hoping to gain
intelligence of her neighbours by the round-about medium of Emma
Thornycroft.

But that excellent matron had had two of her children ill with some
infantine disease, and had in consequence not a thought to spare for any
one out of her own household. The name of Harper never crossed her lips
until Agatha, using a safe plural, boldly asked the question, "Had Emma
seen anything of them?"

Mrs. Thorny croft could not remember.--Yes, she fancied some one had
called--Mr. Harper, perhaps; or no, it must have been the Major, for
somebody had said something about Mr. Nathanael's being ill or out of
town. But the very day after that the measles came out on James, and
poor little Missy had just been moved out of the night-nursery into the
spare bed-room, etc. etc. etc.

The rest of Emma's information concerning her babies was, as they say
in the advertisements of lost property, "of no value to anybody but the
original owner."

Agatha bestowed a passing regret on young Nathanael, whether he were ill
or out of town; she would have liked