ped Miss Keeldar would not be
wanting. He hoped she would make her first public appearance amongst
them at that time. Shirley was not the person to miss an occasion of
this sort. She liked festive excitement, a gathering of happiness, a
concentration and combination of pleasant details, a throng of glad
faces, a muster of elated hearts. She told Mr. Hall they might count on
her with security. She did not know what she would have to do, but they
might dispose of her as they pleased.

"And," said Caroline, "you will promise to come to my table, and to sit
near me, Mr. Hall?"

"I shall not fail, _Deo volente_," said he.--"I have occupied the place
on her right hand at these monster tea-drinkings for the last six
years," he proceeded, turning to Miss Keeldar. "They made her a
Sunday-school teacher when she was a little girl of twelve. She is not
particularly self-confident by nature, as you may have observed; and the
first time she had to 'take a tray,' as the phrase is, and make tea in
public, there was some piteous trembling and flushing. I observed the
speechless panic, the cups shaking in the little hand, and the
overflowing teapot filled too full from the urn. I came to her aid, took
a seat near her, managed the urn and the slop-basin, and in fact made
the tea for her like any old woman."

"I was very grateful to you," interposed Caroline.

"You were. You told me so with an earnest sincerity that repaid me well,
inasmuch as it was not like the majority of little ladies of twelve,
whom you may help and caress for ever without their evincing any quicker
sense of the kindness done and meant than if they were made of wax and
wood instead of flesh and nerves.--She kept close to me, Miss Keeldar,
the rest of the evening, walking with me over the grounds where the
children were playing; she followed me into the vestry when all were
summoned into church; she would, I believe, have mounted with me to the
pulpit, had I not taken the previous precaution of conducting her to the
rectory pew."

"And he has been my friend ever since," said Caroline.

"And always sat at her table, near her tray, and handed the cups--that
is the extent of my services. The next thing I do for her will be to
marry her some day to some curate or mill-owner.--But mind, Caroline, I
shall inquire about the bridegroom's character; and if he is not a
gentleman likely to render happy the little girl who walked with me
hand in hand over Nunnely Common, I