tongue; "it is glorious haymaking weather. I expect we
shall have a fine crop in the lower meadow."

"Are you haymaking?" exclaimed Bessie, with almost childish delight.
"Oh, I hope your sister will take me into the hayfield."

"I will promise anything, if only you and Richard will not turn over the
haycocks now," retorted Edna, with sleepy impatience. "Do come, Bessie."
And Bessie followed her obediently.

Richard Sefton looked after her as her white dress disappeared up the
dark staircase.

"She seems a different sort from most of Edna's friends," he muttered,
as he lighted his pipe and retired to the nondescript apartment that was
called his study. "There does not seem much nonsense about her. What do
you think about it, Mac?" as the hound laid his head on his knee. "I
imagine, as a rule, women have a precious lot of it." And he whistled a
bar from the "Miller of the Dee."

"I care for nobody, no, not I,
And nobody cares for me."

"What a long evening it has been!" thought Bessie, as she leaned out of
the window to enjoy the sweet June air, and to admire the lawn silvered
by the moonlight.

"It seems two days at least since I left Cliffe. Oh, I hope Hatty is
asleep, and not fretting!"

"I wonder if I shall be happy here," she went on. "It is all very
nice--the house and the country beautiful, and Edna as delightful as
possible; but there is something wanting--family union. It is so sad to
hear Edna talking about her brother. He is a perfect stranger to me, and
yet I took his part at once. How could the poor fellow talk and enjoy
himself while Mrs. Sefton was sitting opposite to him looking like an
offended tragedy queen? He had not the heart to talk; besides, he knew
that in engaging that man he was going against her wishes, and so he
could not feel comfortable. Edna was wrong in calling him a bear. He was
not at his ease, certainly; but he anticipated all my wants, and spoke
to me very nicely. But there, I must not mix myself up in family
disagreements. I shall have to be civil and kind to every one; but it
makes one thankful for one's peaceful home, and the dear mother and
father," and the tears came into Bessie's eyes as she thought of her
shielded and happy life, and the love of her sisters and Tom.

"God bless them all, and make me worthy of them!" thought the girl, with
a sudden rush of tenderness for the dear ones at home.

Bessie was an early riser. Dr. Lambert had always inculcated this