ith sparkling rings, 'I have a
scolding in store for you. Why did you not examine my class as usual last
Sunday?--the children tell me you never came near them.'

'I had so little time that I asked Tudor to take the classes for me,' he
returned quickly, but he was looking at Miss Hamilton as he spoke. 'I am
always sure of the children in that class: they have been so thoroughly
well taught that there is very little need for me to interfere.'

'It would encourage their teachers if you were to do so,' returned Miss
Darrell, smiling graciously. She evidently appropriated the praise to
herself, but I am sure Uncle Max was not thinking of her when he spoke.
Just then Lady Betty came into the room, followed by Mr. Tudor.

Lady Betty looked almost pretty to-night. She wore a dark ruby velveteen
that exactly suited her brown skin; her fluffy hair was tolerably smooth,
and she had a bright colour. She came and sat down beside me at once.

'Oh, I am so vexed that we are so late! but it was all Etta's fault: she
would look in at every shop-window, and so of course we lost the proper
train.'

'What does the child say?' asked Miss Darrell good-humouredly. She seemed
in excellent spirits this evening; but how silent Miss Hamilton had
become since her entrance! 'Of course poor Etta is blamed; she always is
if anything goes wrong in the house; Etta is the family scapegoat. But
who was it, I wonder, who wanted another turn on the pier? Not Etta,
certainly.'

'Just as though those few minutes would have mattered; and I did want
another look at the sea,' returned Lady Betty pettishly; 'but no, you
preferred those stupid shops. That is why I hate to go into Brighton with
you.' But Miss Darrell only laughed at this flimsy display of wrath.

Just then Mr. Tudor had taken the other vacant chair beside me. 'How is
the village nurse?' he asked, in his bright way. I certainly liked Mr.
Tudor, he had such a pleasant, friendly way with him, and on his part he
seemed always glad to see me. If I had ever talked slang, I might have
said that we chummed together famously. He was a year younger than
myself, and I took advantage of this to give him advice in an
elder-sisterly fashion.

'You must take care that the clergy do not spoil the village nurse,'
observed Miss Darrell, who had overheard him, and this time the taper
finger was uplifted against Mr. Tudor.

'Oh, there is no fear of that,' he returned manfully; 'Miss Garston is
too sensible