s all alone,' as the little book says."

"And then he asked about your papa; if you remembered him?"

"No, mamma."

"He made some mention, some allusion, to papa?"

"Only a little sly remark of how fond he must be of _me_, or _I_ of
_him_."

"And what did you answer?"

"I only wiped my eyes, mamma; and then he seemed so sorry to have given
me pain that he spoke of something else. Like Sir Guyon,--

"'He talked of roses, lilies, and the rest,
The shady alley, and the upland swelling;
Wondered what notes birds warbled in their nest,
What tales the rippling river then was telling.'"

"And then you left him, and came away?" said her mother.

"Yes, mamma. I said it was my lesson time, and that you were so exact
and so punctual that I did not dare to be late."

"Was it then he asked if mamma had always been your governess, Clara?"

"No; it was May that asked that question. May Leslie has a very pretty
way of pumping, mamma, though you 'd not suspect it She begins with the
usual 'Are you very fond of Italy?' or 'Don't you prefer England?' and
then 'What part of England?'"

Mrs. Morris bit her lip, and colored slightly; and then, laying her work
on her lap, stared steadfastly at the girl, still deeply intent on her
drawing.

"I like them to begin that way," continued Clara. "It costs no trouble
to answer such bungling questions; and whenever they push me closer, I
've an infallible method, mamma,--it never fails."

"What's that?" asked her mother, dryly.

"I just say, as innocently as possible, 'I 'll run and ask mamma; I 'm
certain she 'll be delighted to tell you.' And then, if you only saw
the shame and confusion they get into, saying, 'On no account, Clara
dearest. I had no object in asking. It was mere idle talking,' and so
on. Oh dear! what humiliation all their curiosity costs them!"

"You try to be too shrewd, too cunning, Miss Clara," said her mother,
rebukingly. "It is a knife that often cuts with the handle. Be satisfied
with discovering people's intentions, and don't plume yourself about
the cleverness of finding them out, or else, Clara,"--and here she spoke
more slowly,--"or else, Clara, they will find _you_ out too."

"Oh, surely not, while I continue the thoughtless, guileless little
child mamma has made me," said she. And the tears rose to her eyes, with
an expression of mingled anger and sorrow it was sad to see in one so
young.

"Clara!" cried her mother, in a voice