get it
settled, for Constance will have nothing to say to him a few weeks later.'

I said nothing; I had noticed Mr. Stroud's attentions to Constance, and
had drawn my own conclusions; but when Kenneth went on in the same strain
declaring that Constance would keep him hanging on till she saw any she
liked better, I turned upon him rather sharply,--

'I am very thankful you are not my brother. I think it is a shame of you
to talk so, and I won't listen to any more of it!'

He laughed, and as we were now entering the village there was little more
conversation between us till we had reached the small general shop. Mrs.
Walters came out to us in a great state of excitement, and Roddy, who had
nearly fallen asleep again, woke up and began to cry at the top of his
voice.

'I'm sure I don't know what to do with him,' she complained; 'he runs
away from school whenever he get a chance, and last Sunday he breaks into
my neighbour's chicken-house, and smashes a whole set of eggs that was
being 'atched! School do keep him a bit quiet in the week, but Sundays
he's just rampageous!'

'Does he go to Sunday School?' I asked.

'There's no Sunday School in our village, miss; the bigger ones they goes
to the next parish; but it's two good miles, and my Roddy he can't walk
so fur. Now thank the leddy and gentleman, you scamp, for bringin' you
home!'

Roddy turned his big blue eyes upon us, then suddenly held out his arms
to me.

'I'll kiss her, for she callied me much nicer nor the gempleum!'

I gave the little fellow a hug. He looked such a baby in his mother's
arms, and I felt quite drawn to him.

'I love little children so,' I said to Kenneth as we were walking home.
'I wish there was a Sunday School in this place. I should like Roddy in
my class.'

'You might start a Sunday School,' suggested Kenneth gravely. 'Our old
rector will let you do exactly as you like, I am sure.'

'I wonder if I could,' I said reflectively; 'just a class for the little
ones, and those that can't walk as far as the bigger, stronger ones. I
should be glad if I could do something on Sunday.'

Then remembering to whom I was speaking, I checked myself and said no
more on the subject, though my thoughts were busy.

When we came up to the house we found that afternoon tea was going on
under the old elms on the lawn. Mrs. Forsyth was in a low wicker-chair
with her work, Constance was pouring out tea, and Nelly was swinging
lazily in a hamm