the sixth form."

"No," said Agatha sweetly, "but I want to go, if I may."

Miss Wilson looked round. The sixth form consisted of four studious
young ladies, whose goal in life for the present was an examination by
one of the Universities, or, as the college phrase was, "the Cambridge
Local." None of them responded.

"Fifth form, then," said Miss Wilson.

Jane, Gertrude, and four others rose and stood with Agatha.

"Very well," said Miss Wilson. "Do not be long dressing."

They left the room quietly, and dashed at the staircase the moment they
were out of sight. Agatha, though void of emulation for the Cambridge
Local, always competed with ardor for the honor of being first up or
down stairs.

They soon returned, clad for walking, and left the college in
procession, two by two, Jane and Agatha leading, Gertrude and Miss
Wilson coming last. The road to Lyvern lay through acres of pasture
land, formerly arable, now abandoned to cattle, which made more money
for the landlord than the men whom they had displaced. Miss Wilson's
young ladies, being instructed in economics, knew that this proved that
the land was being used to produce what was most wanted from it; and if
all the advantage went to the landlord, that was but natural, as he was
the chief gentleman in the neighborhood. Still the arrangement had its
disagreeable side; for it involved a great many cows, which made them
afraid to cross the fields; a great many tramps, who made them afraid to
walk the roads; and a scarcity of gentlemen subjects for the maiden art
of fascination.

The sky was cloudy. Agatha, reckless of dusty stockings, waded through
the heaps of fallen leaves with the delight of a child paddling in the
sea; Gertrude picked her steps carefully, and the rest tramped along,
chatting subduedly, occasionally making some scientific or philosophical
remark in a louder tone, in order that Miss Wilson might overhear
and give them due credit. Save a herdsman, who seemed to have caught
something of the nature and expression of the beasts he tended, they
met no one until they approached the village, where, on the brow of an
acclivity, masculine humanity appeared in the shape of two curates: one
tall, thin, close-shaven, with a book under his arm, and his neck craned
forward; the other middle-sized, robust, upright, and aggressive, with
short black whiskers, and an air of protest against such notions as that
a clergyman may not marry, hunt, play cricket,