here are the two girls we saw in the cathedral Falconer; one is your
sister."

Before Melville could rejoin, Joyce had turned, and now came forward to
her brother with heightened colour, saying:

"I think my father will be ready to go home now, Melville, and we had
better go back to the Swan."

Charlotte all this time had been posing before her grand cousin and his
friend, hoping to attract his attention.

"Introduce me, Falconer," Mr. Arundel said, standing with a native grace
which characterised him, with his hat in his hand.

"My sister," said Melville, carelessly, "and my cousin, Miss Benson;"
and he was passing on to continue his walk towards the Bishop's Fields;
but Mr. Arundel did not follow him.

"Your sister says we shall be wanted at the Swan Inn, and must not
linger by the live swans."

"Oh, no; we are going to Fair Acres quite independently of my father. I
have ordered our carriage; you ought to come to the end of the Moat,
there is a fine view of Dulcot."

But Mr. Arundel showed no intention of following his friend. "Nay," he
said, "let me see the swans have the last bit of bun. See, they are
coming for it. Do you always bring them buns?"

"Not always; but I had a convenient halfpenny left from the change at
Willmott's, so I went to buy a stale bun at the little shop in Saddler
Street."

"Happy swans to be so remembered!" Mr. Arundel said, as he watched the
last wedge of the stale bun gobbled up by the master of the brood, while
his wife gave him a savage peck with her black bill.

"It is a pity they are so greedy; it spoils their beauty," Joyce said.
Then, with sudden recollection, she said, "Oh! Charlotte, I have
forgotten to take Piers' sparrow-hawk to Mr. Plume's. I must go at once
to Aunt Letitia's and fetch it. I left it in the basket there."

"Can I go and fetch the sparrow-hawk, Miss Falconer?" Mr. Arundel began.

"Come, Arundel," Melville interrupted, "you and I can stroll round this
moat; we are not returning, as I told you, with Joyce."

But Mr. Arundel deliberately turned in the direction in which Joyce was
hastening; and Charlotte, much to her cousin's vexation, was left with
him.

A muttered exclamation, which was not fit for ears polite to hear,
escaped Melville's lips, and Charlotte's soft speeches were lost on
him.

"It is so nice to see you here, Cousin Melville. Won't you come and pay
auntie a visit?"

Melville had particularly desired to escape a visit to the Vicar'