s something of the wistfulness of those who seek to
raise but a corner of the veil that hangs before the world of
hidden things--something, too, of the subdued joy which even the
effort brings. The lines of his forceful mouth were less firm, more
sensitive--a greater sense of humanity seemed somehow to have descended
upon him as he lounged there in the warmth of the sun, with the full joy
of his beautiful environment creeping through his blood.

"If you please, Mr. Macheson," some one said in his ear.

He turned his head at once. A tall, fair girl had stepped out of the
room where he had been breakfasting, and was standing by his elbow. She
was neatly dressed, pretty in a somewhat insipid fashion, and her hands
and hair showed signs of a refinement superior to her station. Just now
she was apparently nervous. Macheson smiled at her encouragingly.

"Well, Letty," he said, "what is it?"

"I wanted--can I say something to you, Mr. Macheson?" she began.

"Why not?" he answered kindly. "Is it anything very serious? Out with
it!"

"I was thinking, Mr. Macheson," she said, "that I should like to leave
home--if I could--if there was anything which I could do. I wanted to
ask your advice."

He laid down his pipe and looked at her seriously.

"Why, Letty," he said, "how long have you been thinking of this?"

"Oh! ever so long, sir," she exclaimed, speaking with more confidence.
"You see there's nothing for me to do here except when there's any one
staying, like you, sir, and that's not often. Mother won't let me help
with the rough work, and Ruth's growing up now, she's ever such a strong
girl. And I should like to go away if I could, and learn to be a little
more--more ladylike," she added, with reddening cheeks.

Macheson was puzzled. The girl was not looking him in the face. He felt
there was something at the back of it all.

"My dear girl," he said, "you can't learn to be ladylike. That's one of
the things that's born with you or it isn't. You can be just as much a
lady helping your mother here as practising grimaces in a London
drawing-room."

"But I want to improve myself," she persisted.

"Go for a long walk every day, and look about you," he said. "Read. I'll
lend you some books--the right sort. You'll do better here than away."

She was frankly dissatisfied.

"But I want to go away," she declared. "I want to leave Thorpe for a
time. I should like to go to London. Couldn't I get a situation as
lady's hel