r; but he
only said, "Proceed, Polly, proceed with that catechism--prove yourself
the little wiseacre you are. If Miss Snowe were to blush and look
confused, I should have to bid you hold your tongue; and you and I
would sit out the present meal in some disgrace; but she only smiles,
so push her hard, multiply the cross-questions. Well, Miss Snowe, why
do you go on with it?"

"Chiefly, I fear, for the sake of the money I get."

"Not then from motives of pure philanthropy? Polly and I were clinging
to that hypothesis as the most lenient way of accounting for your
eccentricity."

"No--no, sir. Rather for the roof of shelter I am thus enabled to keep
over my head; and for the comfort of mind it gives me to think that
while I can work for myself, I am spared the pain of being a burden to
anybody."

"Papa, say what you will, I pity Lucy."

"Take up that pity, Miss de Bassompierre; take it up in both hands, as
you might a little callow gosling squattering out of bounds without
leave; put it back in the warm nest of a heart whence it issued, and
receive in your ear this whisper. If my Polly ever came to know by
experience the uncertain nature of this world's goods, I should like
her to act as Lucy acts: to work for herself, that she might burden
neither kith nor kin."

"Yes, papa," said she, pensively and tractably. "But poor Lucy! I
thought she was a rich lady, and had rich friends."

"You thought like a little simpleton. _I_ never thought so. When I had
time to consider Lucy's manner and aspect, which was not often, I saw
she was one who had to guard and not be guarded; to act and not be
served: and this lot has, I imagine, helped her to an experience for
which, if she live long enough to realize its full benefit, she may yet
bless Providence. But this school," he pursued, changing his tone from
grave to gay: "would Madame Beck admit my Polly, do you think, Miss
Lucy?"

I said, there needed but to try Madame; it would soon be seen: she was
fond of English pupils. "If you, sir," I added, "will but take Miss de
Bassompierre in your carriage this very afternoon, I think I can answer
for it that Rosine, the portress, will not be very slow in answering
your ring; and Madame, I am sure, will put on her best pair of gloves
to come into the salon to receive you."

"In that case," responded Mr. Home, "I see no sort of necessity there
is for delay. Mrs. Hurst can send what she calls her young lady's
'things' after her; Po