m_.

Miss Carlyle went that day to dine at East Lynne, walking back with Mrs.
Carlyle, Madame Vine and Lucy. Lord Vane found them out, and returned at
the same time; of course East Lynne was the headquarters of himself and
his father. He was in the seventh heaven, and had been ever since the
encounter with the yellows.

"You'd have gone into laughing convulsions, Lucy had you seen the
drowned cur. I'd give all my tin for six months to come to have a
photograph of him as he looked then!"

Lucy laughed in glee; she was unconscious, poor child, how deeply the
"drowned cur" had injured her.

When Miss Carlyle was in her dressing-room taking her things off--the
room where once had slept Richard Hare--she rang for Joyce. These two
rooms were still kept for Miss Carlyle--for she did sometimes visit
them for a few days--and were distinguished by her name--"Miss Carlyle's
rooms."

"A fine row we have had in the town, Joyce, this afternoon."

"I have heard of it, ma'am. Served him right, if they had let him drown!
Bill White, Squire Pinner's plowman, called in here and told us the
news. He'd have burst with it, if he hadn't, I expect; I never saw a
chap so excited. Peter cried."

"Cried?" echoed Miss Carlyle.

"Well, ma'am, you know he was very fond of Lady Isabel, was Peter, and
somehow his feelings overcame him. He said he had not heard anything to
please him so much for many a day; and with that he burst out crying,
and gave Bill White half a crown out of his pocket. Bill White said it
was he who held one leg when they soused him in. Afy saw it--if you'll
excuse me mentioning her name to you, ma'am, for I know you don't think
well of her--and when she got in here, she fell into hysterics."

"How did she see it?" snapped Miss Carlyle, her equanimity upset by the
sound of the name. "I didn't see her, and I was present."

"She was coming here with a message from Mrs. Latimer to the governess."

"What did she go into hysterics for?" again snapped Miss Carlyle.

"It upset her so, she said," returned Joyce.

"It wouldn't have done her harm had they ducked her too," was the angry
response.

Joyce was silent. To contradict Miss Corny brought triumph to nobody.
And she was conscious, in her innermost heart, that Afy merited a little
wholesome correction, not perhaps to the extent of a ducking.

"Joyce," resumed Miss Carlyle, abruptly changing the subject, "who does
the governess put you in mind of?"

"Ma'am?" repeat