s always the
centre, of some new sport or game; Cissy and Mabel being like a pair of
attendant fairies, ready to be seized upon by Mr Canninge as the
bearers of the prizes that were to be won.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I never saw George so full of spirits before," said Mrs Canninge to
Rebecca Lambent as they sat in a garden-chair looking on.

"I should say he will have a bad headache afterwards," replied that
lady.

"Oh, no, he is fond of athletics and that sort of thing. Charming young
person, your new schoolmistress, Beatrice dear," she continued. "Very
ladylike and well-spoken."

"Yes, a very well educated person," said Beatrice coldly.

"The squire's a brick, that's what he is, Betsey," said the host, wiping
his forehead with his handkerchief, about five o'clock. "I tell you
what, I'm about tired out. Now, look here, you go in and get yourself a
cup of tea, or you'll be done up, and if you're as wise as I take you to
be, you'll put just a pinch of ody-wee in the cup. It'll be all over at
six, and then well have a comfortable dinner."

"But what are you going to do, Bill!"

"To do? I'm going to fetch that girl in to have a cup of tea with you.
Bless her, she's worked like a slave. No, I won't it's all right, I'll
take in her mother. Poor old lady, no one seemed to speak to her. Look
at that now. That's what I call a genuine English gentleman, Betsey.
Here, hi! Mr Chute, that'll do; now come up to the house, let them
play by themselves. I say, Betsey, this has been a day!"

A day to be remembered, for Mr Chute was tightening his fists and
scowling at one of the young Potts, wishing the while that he had a
cane. Not that young Potts had been behaving so very badly, but his
schoolmaster was annoyed, and some people when hurt look round at once
for some one as a spleen-vent. He was suffering from the same pain that
had sent a sting through Beatrice Lambent, and made her sister frown.

For just as Mr William Forth Burge had told his sister his
determination, George Canninge, the principal landholder and personage
of those parts, the newly-elected magistrate on the county bench, had
gone up to Hazel Thorne, raised his hat and said quietly:

"Miss Thorne, you look tired out. Will you allow me to take you into
the house and get you some tea?"

"And she forgot herself," cried Beatrice Lambent passionately, as she
paced her room that night Hazel Th