ur lease."

"Ah yes! my lease, I had forgotten it. Let me have it."

"Pardon me," said the Attorney with a cruel smile, "but I cannot let
you have it. On reading it over I find that owing to a mistake you may
be turned out of the farm at any time. I must keep it to show to Sir
Arthur. I have no doubt he will want me to look after things for him
as I did for his brother. Now perhaps you wish you had quietly let me
add the field to my garden."

Farmer Price said nothing, but dragged himself home a sad man.

III

SUSAN'S GUINEA-FOWL

When Susan had heard her father's story, she quite forgot the loss of
her guinea-hen, and thought only of her poor mother who, try as she
might, could not bear the bad news. In the middle of the night Susan
was roused, as Mrs. Price had become ill, and it was not until early
morning that the poor woman fell asleep, her daughter's hand locked
fast in hers. Susan remained sitting by the bedside, breathing
quietly. Then seeing the candle burn low, she gently withdrew her
hand, and on tiptoe went to put out the light, lest the unpleasant
smell should wake her mother. All was silent. The gray light of dawn
stole into the little room; the sun rose slowly, and Susan peered
through the small panes of the lattice window at the glorious sight. A
few birds began to chirp, and as the little girl listened to them, her
mother started and spoke in her sleep. Susan quickly hung up a white
apron before the window to keep out the light, and at the same moment
she heard in the distance the voices of the village children singing
their Mayday songs. Soon she could see them, Philip leading the way
playing upon his pipe and tabor, the others following with nosegays
and garlands in their hands. They were coming towards the cottage.
Quickly but quietly Susan unlatched the door and ran to meet them.

"Here she is!--here's Susan!" they exclaimed joyfully.

"Here's the Queen of the May!"

"And here's her crown!" cried Rose, pressing forward.

But Susan put her finger to her lips, and pointed to her mother's
window. Philip's pipe stopped at once.

"Thank you," said Susan, "but my mother is ill. I can't leave her, you
know." Then as she gently put aside the crown, her companions asked
her to say who should wear it for her.

"Will you, dear Rose?" she said, placing the garland upon her friend's
head. "It's a charming May morning," she added, with a smile;
"good-by. We shall not hear your voices or the