home on one occasion for a week's holiday, a charwoman having done her
work in her absence, and on her return she had much to relate of
Charles Russell, the groom at Fairholm, who continued to be an ardent
admirer of hers, but not an honourable one, because he did not realise
what a very superior person Harriet was. He thought she was no better
than other girls, and when they were sitting up one night together in
her mother's cottage, the rest of the family having gone to bed, he
made her a proposal which Harriet indignantly rejected.

"And ah _ses_ to 'im, 'Charles _Russell_,' ah ses to 'im, 'not was it
ever so,' ah ses to 'im"--she was proceeding emphatically when Beth
interrupted her.

"Did you say you sat up with him alone all night?" she asked.

"Yes, there's no 'arm, you know," Harriet answered on the defensive,
without precisely knowing why.

"Well, what did he say?" Beth rejoined without comment.

But Harriet, put out of countenance, omitted the details, and brought
the story to an abrupt conclusion.

Another of Harriet's interests in life was the _Family Herald_, which
she took regularly, and as regularly read aloud to Beth, to the best
of her ability--from the verses to "Violet," or "My own Love," on the
first page, to the "Random Readings" on the last. They laughed at the
jokes, tried to guess the riddles, were impressed with the historical
anecdotes and words of wisdom, and became so hungry over the recipes
for good dishes that they frequently fried eggs and potatoes, or a
slice stolen from the joint roasting at the fire, and feasted
surreptitiously.

Beth tried in after years to remember what the stories in the _Family
Herald_ had been about, but all she could recall was a vague incident
of a falling scaffold, of a heroine called Margaret taking refuge in
the dark behind a hoarding, and of a fascinating hero whom Harriet
called Ug Miller. Long afterwards it dawned upon Beth that his name
was Hugh.

When Mildred went to her aunt, Beth and Bernadine became of necessity
constant companions, and it was a curious kind of companionship, for
their natures were antagonistic. Like rival chieftains whose
territories adjoin, they professed no love for each other, and were
often at war, but were intimate nevertheless, and would have missed
each other, because there was no one else with whom they could so
conveniently quarrel. Harriet took the liveliest interest in their
squabbles, which, under her able direc