nny Anderson has not spoiled the girls in the meantime. It
is all Mrs. Ledwich's doing. How I did hate it when every one came up
and shook hands with me, and asked after Margaret and papa, only just
out of curiosity!"

"Hush, hush, Ethel, what's the use of thinking such things?"

A silence,--then she exclaimed, "But, indeed, Richard, you don't
fancy that I want to teach at Cocksmoor, because it is disagreeable at
Stoneborough?"

"No, indeed."

The rendering of full justice conveyed in his tone so opened Ethel's
heart that she went on eagerly:--"The history of it is this. Last time
we walked here, that day, I said, and I meant it, that I would never put
it out of my head; I would go on doing and striving, and trying, till
this place was properly cared for, and has a church and a clergyman. I
believe it was a vow, Richard, I do believe it was,--and if one makes
one, one must keep it. There it is. So, I can't give money, I have but
one pound in the world, but I have time, and I would make that useful,
if you would help me."

"I don't see how," was the answer, and there was a fragment of a smile
on Richard's face, as if it struck him as a wild scheme, that Ethel
should undertake, single handed, to evangelise Cocksmoor.

It was such a damper as to be most mortifying to an enthusiastic girl,
and she drew into herself in a moment.

They walked home in silence, and when Richard warned her that she was
not keeping her dress out of the dirt, it sounded like a sarcasm on
her projects, and, with a slightly pettish manner, she raised the
unfortunate skirt, its crape trimmings greatly bespattered with ruddy
mud. Then recollecting how mamma would have shaken her head at that very
thing, she regretted the temper she had betrayed, and in a larmoyante
voice, sighed, "I wish I could pick my way better. Some people have the
gift, you have hardly a splash, and I'm up to the ankles in mud."

"It is only taking care," said Richard; "besides your frock is so long,
and full. Can't you tuck it up and pin it?"

"My pins always come out," said Ethel, disconsolately, crumpling the
black folds into one hand, while she hunted for a pin with the other.

"No wonder, if you stick them in that way," said Richard. "Oh! you'll
tear that crape. Here, let me help you. Don't you see, make it go in and
out, that way; give it something to pull against."

Ethel laughed. "That's the third thing you have taught me--to thread a
needle, tie a bow, and s