prim school-children, and she gave great satisfaction in
the cottages.

Julius did not of course come as a stranger, and had a general
impression as to names and families; but he had been absent, except
on short visits, for five years, so that Rosamond declared that this
was a staple of his conversation: "Then it was Tom Deane--no, it
was John Deane that married Blake's son--no, it was Blake's daughter
that died who is living in the next house."

They finished with a long and miry lane, lying along the valley, and
leading to the cottages of a little clan, the chief of whom seemed
to be a large-boned lively-eyed old dame, who, after minute
inquiries after "the Lady Poynsett," went on, "And be it true,
Master Julius, as that young gentleman of Squire Bowater's is one of
your passons?"

Julius admitted the fact.

"And be ye going to put he up in the pulpit to preach to we? 'Pon
my word of honour, says I to Sally when her telled I, we shall have
little Dick out of the infant-school next!"

"We're all young, Betty! Can't you put up with any one that is not
older than yourself! I'm afraid he would hardly be able to get up
the pulpit stair."

The Rector's reply delighted Betty; but she returned to the charge.
"No, no, sir, I be coming to hear ye next Sunday. Sally have turned
my black bonnet a purpose. It be one of the Lady Poynsett's, as her
gave I when my old gentleman was took two years after the Squire--
when bonnets was bonnets, you know, ma'am. Now tell me true, be ye
to preach morning or arternoon, sir?"

"In the morning, I hope, Betty."

"Then I'll be there, Master Julius, to the third seat from the
front; but it ain't becoming for a woman of my age, seventy-nine
come Christmas, to sit under a slip of a lad as hasn't got the taste
of the birch off his back."

"That's too bad, Betty," broke in Rosamond, speaking out of
conviction. "Mr. Bowater isn't so young as he looks, and he was too
good a boy ever to need the birch."

"All the wuss for he," retorted the undaunted Betty. "Spare the
rod, and spile the child."

The village wit was left triumphant, and Julius proposed to return
by a cross-road leading into the plantations. Suddenly a scud of
rain mixed with whirling yellow leaves sent them hurrying into a
cart-shed, where, with a sudden start, they found themselves rushing
in on some one. Who was it? A girl--a young lady. That was
evident, as Rosamond panted out, "I beg your pardon!" and the