ey
positively adore you!"

"I'm sure I can't imagine why they should," answered Violet truthfully.

"Oh, but they do. They like to look at you. When you come into the
school-room they're all in a flutter; and they point at you awfully,
don't they, Miss Pierson?" said Mrs. Scobel, appealing to the
school-mistress.

"Yes, ma'am. I can't cure them of pointing, do what I will."

"Oh, they are dear little children," exclaimed Violet, "and I don't
care how much they point at me if they really like me. They make me
such nice little bob-curtsies when I meet them in the Forest, and they
all seem fond of Argus. I'm sure you have made them extremely polite,
Miss Pierson. I shall be very pleased to come to your school-feast,
Mrs. Scobel; and I'll tell our good old Trimmer to make no end of
cakes."

"My dear Violet, pray don't think of putting Mrs. Trimmer to any
trouble. Your dear mamma might be angry."

"Angry at my asking for some cakes for the school-children, after being
papa's wife for seventeen years! That couldn't be."

The school-feast was fixed, three weeks in advance, for the Wednesday
in Whitsun week, and during the interval there were many small
meteorologists in Beechdale school intent upon the changes of the moon,
and all those varied phenomena from which the rustic mind draws its
auguries of coming weather. The very crowing of early village cocks was
regarded suspiciously by the school children at this period; and even
the harmless domestic pussy, sitting with his back to the fire, was
deemed a cat of evil omen.

It happened that the appointed Wednesday was a day on which Mrs.
Tempest had chosen to invite a few friends in a quiet way to her seven
o'clock dinner; among the few Captain Winstanley, who had taken Mrs.
Hawbuck's cottage for an extended period of three months. Mrs. Tempest
had known all about the school-feast a fortnight before she gave her
invitations, but had forgotten the date at the moment when she arranged
her little dinner. Yet she felt offended that Violet should insist upon
keeping her engagement to the Scobels.

"But, dear mamma, I am of no use to you at our parties," pleaded Vixen;
"if I were at all necessary to your comfort I would give up the
school-feast."

"My dear Violet, it is not my comfort I am considering; but I cannot
help feeling annoyed that you should prefer to spend your evening with
a herd of vulgar children--playing Oranges and Lemons, or Kiss in the
Ring, or some ot