lted her with regard to
the cook and the servants generally. The Squire would shout to her to
spare him a quarter of an hour in the study to see if he had totted up
his accounts right. In short, Jane Macalister was as much part and
parcel of the Lorrimer household as if she were really one of
themselves. She was by no means educated up to the standard of the
latter half of the nineteenth century, but what she did know, she knew
thoroughly. She was methodical and helpful. The kind of person whom Mrs.
Lorrimer was fond of quoting as invaluable. The children, one and all,
loved her as a matter of course, but, in school hours, their love was
certainly mingled with awe. In school hours, Jane allowed no relaxing of
the iron rod.

Kitty and Boris, having just heard the dismal sound of the schoolroom
bell, started from their fascinating occupation of feeding the white
rats and ran as fast as their small feet could carry them in the
direction of the house. They went in by a side entrance, and with
panting breath and hot little steps began to mount the spiral staircase
which led to the schoolroom in the tower. They were late already, and
they knew that they could not possibly escape bad marks for
unpunctuality. They pushed open the green baize door which admitted them
to the sanctum of learning and came in. All the other children whom Miss
Macalister taught were already in the room. Kitty and Boris were the
sole delinquents--the only ones in disgrace; even Elinor was present.
Their faces fell when they saw her. They had built great hopes on having
at least Elinor's company in their disgrace. The swift thought had
darted through both their minds that she would be safe to be extra
naughty that morning, and in consequence would divert some of the storm
of Jane Macalister's wrath from their devoted heads; but no, there she
sat in her accustomed place, her hymn book open on her knee, marks of
tears on her cheeks, it is true, but in all other respects she looked a
provokingly model Elinor.

It was too bad; Kitty made a face at her across the schoolroom, and
even Boris gave her a reproachful glance.

Jane Macalister fixed two awful spectacled eyes upon the culprits, and,
scarlet blushes tingling in their cheeks, they took possession of their
vacant chairs.

The children all sang their usual hymn, although Elinor's voice was a
little husky and Boris held his book upside down.

"_All things bright and beautiful,
All creat