did Oliver Twist. Here was a pleasant amusement for young people. The
grave Hugh and the gay Merryweathers, Peggy and Jean, all became
absorbed in picking up sticks and throwing them. There was no end to the
puppies' enthusiasm, apparently; they yelled, and rushed, and yelled and
rushed again; and when Margaret came out an hour afterward, anxious lest
her guests should find time hang heavy on their hands, she found one
and all flushed and breathless, hurling sticks and stones, and making
almost half as much noise as the dogs themselves. At sight of Margaret,
cool and pearly in her white dress, Gerald and Peggy dropped their
sticks, and looked abashed; but Hugh called to her merrily: "Margaret,
they are making great progress. I think my pupil has got farther than
yours, though. Miss Margaret and I are training them for a prize
contest," he added, turning to Gerald. "This is an extension of their
usual practice, that is all."

"Hurrah!" said Gerald, much relieved. "I was afraid she would think--I
didn't know whether she would approve," he concluded, somewhat lamely.

It _was_ amazing. It was rather as if the Venus of Milo had begun to
sing light opera, Gerald thought; but after all, how much pleasanter if
she should, than to stand there all day and wonder how she was going to
eat her breakfast without any arms. With this shocking reflection,
Master Gerald betook himself once more to the throwing of sticks, and
the sport went on till Margaret called the puppies off, declaring that
they would be too tired for their afternoon run.

"She takes care of everything, you see!" said Gerald, aside to his
brother. "All without any fuss; that's just like Hilda, too."

"Yes," said Phil. "Appears to be a corker!"

"I wish you wouldn't talk so much slang, Phil!" said Gerald. "What kind
of word is that to use in speaking of Miss Montfort?"

Philip looked up in amazement, and saw his brother flushed, and
evidently annoyed in earnest.

"Well, may I be split and buttered!" said Phil.

"I wish you were!" said Gerald, forcing a laugh. "Come along, and don't
be an ass!"

CHAPTER X.

GRACE'S SYSTEM

"Margaret!"

"Yes, Mrs. Peyton."

"Is that door shut? lock it, will you? and--just go and look out of the
window, please. No one there? Thank you!"

She sank back on her pillows with a sigh of relief.

"What is it?" asked Margaret, soothingly. "What troubles you, dear Mrs.
Peyton?"

"I am frightened!" said Emily Peyton.