down with her
knitting somewhat drearily by Mrs. Grant's side, with tears not far
from her eyes, because her cousin would persist in taking these sudden
and backward steps.

"I know he's to be a farmer, but there, even farmers mustn't be
blockheads of dunces, as Oscar'll be if he don't alter," said Mrs.
Grant.

"To be a farmer?" inquired Inna.

"Yes, dearie, that's why his uncle is keeping on the farm. He talked of
selling or letting it years ago, when it fell to him by heirship, but he
didn't, but kept it on and on; and when his brother's orphan came to
him, he said he'd keep it for him, if I didn't mind seeing to it a few
years longer; and I said I didn't, being a farmer's daughter. I think
I've made a better farmer than--than your uncle," laughed the good
woman. "So the farm is for Master Oscar."

"So Oscar is to be a farmer," mused the little girl, hearkening for his
coming, as she sat by the wood fire, while Mrs. Grant went presently to
attend to the two hard-working doctors, just come in.

In he came at last.

"Well, Master Oscar, I hope you've had your swing," said the
housekeeper, meeting him in the passage.

"Yes, I have; and now I am going at once to make it straight with the
doctor," he peeped into the kitchen to say to Inna. "That's a step in
the right direction, you must confess;" and was gone.

CHAPTER VI.

INNA'S FIRSTFRUITS--ON THE TOR.

The going in to make confession of his neglect of his lessons by Oscar,
that night, was like a very firstfruits to loving little Inna, in her
endeavour to influence this big, strong, wilful cousin for good. Nay,
she shamed him into industry and painstaking by her own application to
studies, going to and from the Owl's Nest, "like clockwork, you little
grinder!" as the boy expressed it, making his awkward admission to her
on Christmas Eve, the two wreathing the house with holly and evergreens.
This was something which Carlo and Smut the black cat thought it their
duty to look into, to judge from the way they pryingly inspected the
monster heap of greenery in the wide passage, where the boy and girl
worked, making Inna laugh and laugh again, till her uncle peeped out of
his study door to inquire what was the matter.

"I'm only laughing at Carlo and Smut, uncle," was her shamefaced reply.

"Ah! laugh and grow fat." With this, he went in and shut the door.

"Not at all a speech to address to a lady," remarked Mr. Barlow,
crossing the hall at the mom