surpassing beauty. One of them, Mr. Barnes told
my father, looked worth a king's ransom."

"May the owner be worthy of his cattle," said Mary Jones. "And were
there no coach-horses, no carriages? No symptoms of a lady to dispense
the hospitalities of Belton?"

"Mr. Johnstone is said to be unmarried," answered Betty gravely. "I am
sorry for it, a new neighbour would have been an agreeable addition to
our society."

There was a click of the garden-gate, then a smart rap, as if by the
knob of a hunting-whip.

"Someone is at the gate," said Miss Mary with curiosity.

"Yes," answered Betty, "and I must needs answer it myself, for the bell
is broken, as doubtless our visitor has discovered, and he may knock
till doomsday ere the sound reach the ears of Dame Martha or Isaac, both
of whom are engaged in quarrelling in the kitchen. So so! how impatient
it is!"

For another succession of knocks fell on the panel.

"I entreat you, do not open the door yourself, Betty," cried Mary in a
tone of alarm. "Who knows who may be there?"

"Certainly not Wild Jack," answered Betty smiling, and disengaging
herself from her friend's arm she went forward and opened the gate.

"Does Mr. Ives live here?" asked a loud, clear voice, which, however,
suddenly changed in tone when the opening door disclosed the radiant
vision of the parson's lovely daughter.

A feathered hat was doffed, a gentleman sprang from his horse and,
bowing low, asked if he had the honour of addressing one of the family
of Mr. Ives.

"His only daughter, sir," answered Betty courteously. "If you wish to
see my father, I will beg you to come in and wait, as he will be in
shortly," Mary Jones advanced, her eyes took in at a glance the whole
distinguished appearance of the visitor, from the fine cut of his suit
of claret-coloured cloth, to the well-shaped boot with shining spurs,
and she gave a little sign of approval.

Betty summoned old Isaac and bade him take charge of the horse, and
then led the way into the garden.

"We are primitive folk here," she said. "But I find most people prefer
our garden-seats to entering the house."

Mary was somewhat scandalised, she thought these easy out-door seats a
breach of etiquette in themselves, but she could make no remonstrance
beyond a little tweak at her friend's sleeve.

Betty sat down and, inviting her visitor to do likewise, she said:

"In my character as mistress of the house, I would wish to introduce
you, sir