ous and
earnest man, and both they and Edmund had really serious ideas of duty
and of the means of carrying them out. In London they had heard sermons
which had widened and deepened their views, but they had done no work,
as the relation with whom they lived thought it impossible and improper
for young ladies there. Thus they were exceedingly desirous of doing
what they could to help the place where their lot was cast, and they set
forth to reconnoitre. First, they found their way to the school, which
stood on the border of the village green, a picturesque thatched
cottage, with a honeysuckle and two tall poplars outside. But strange
sounds guided them on their way, and the first thing they saw was a
stout boy of four or five years old in petticoats bellowing loudly
outside, and trying to climb the wicket gate which was firmly secured by
a rusty chain. Mary tried to undo the gate, speaking meanwhile to the
urchin, but he rushed away headlong back into the school, and they heard
him howling, "They bees a-coming!"

A big girl in a checkered pinafore came out and made a curtsey,
assisting to undo the chain.

"What has he been doing?" asked Dora.

"He be a mortial bad boy!" answered the girl. "He've been getting at
Dame Verdon's sugar."

"And what is your name?" asked Mrs Carbonel.

"Lizzie Verdon, ma'am. I helps Grannie."

Grannie did seem in need of help. There she sat in a big wooden chair
by the fire, the very picture of an old dame, with a black bonnet,
high-crowned and crescent shaped in front, with a white muslin cap
below, a buff handkerchief crossed over her shoulders, a dark
short-sleeved gown, long mittens covering her arms, and a checkered
apron; a regular orthodox birch-rod by her side, and a black cat at her
feet. But her head was shaking with palsy, and she hardly seemed to
understand what Lizzie screamed into her ear that, "Here was the
ladies."

But the door which they had shut in the face of their spaniel was thrust
open. Up went the cat's back, bristle went her tail, her eyes shot
sparks, and she bounded to the top of her mistress's chair. Dandy
barked defiance, all the children shouted or screamed and danced about,
and the old woman gasped and shook more. Lizzie alone was almost equal
to the occasion. She flew at the cat who was standing on tiptoe on the
tall back of the chair, with huge tail and eyes like green lamps,
swearing, hissing, and spitting, and, regardless of scratches, c