does not understand a word we say."

Anne, looking over the Princess's head, feared that she saw a
twinkle in the man's eye, and could only look down and try to ignore
him through the catechism that ensued, on when she came to
Whitehall, on the Prince of Wales's health, the management of him,
and all the circumstances connected with his birth.

Very glad was Anne that she knew nothing, and had not picked up any
information as to what had happened before she came to the palace.
As to the present, Lady Strickland's warning and her own sense of
honour kept her reticent to a degree that evidently vexed the
Princess, for she dropped her caressing manner, and sent her away
with a not very kind, "You may go now; you will be turning Papist
next, and what would your poor mother say?"

And as Anne departed in backward fashion she heard Lady Churchill
say, "You will make nothing of her. She is sharper than she
affects, and a proud minx! I see it in her carriage."

The visit had only dashed a few hopes and done her harm with her
immediate surroundings, who always disliked and distrusted
intercourse with the other establishment.

However, in another day the nursery was moved to Richmond. This was
a welcome move to Anne, who had spent her early childhood near
enough to be sometimes taken thither, and to know the Park well, so
that there was a home feeling in the sight of the outline of the
trees and the scenery of the neighbourhood. The Queen intended
going to Bath, so that the establishment was only that of the
Prince, and the life was much quieter on the whole; but there was no
gratifying any yearning for country walks, for it was not safe nor
perhaps decorous for one young woman to be out alone in a park open
to the public and haunted by soldiers from Hounslow--nor could
either of her fellow-rockers understand her preference for a
secluded path through the woods. Miss Dunord never went out at all,
except on duty, when the Prince was carried along the walks in the
garden, and the other two infinitely preferred the open spaces,
where tables were set under the horse-chestnut trees for parties who
boated down from London to eat curds and whey, sometimes bringing a
fiddler so as to dance under the trees.

Jane Humphreys especially was always looking out for acquaintances,
and once, with a cry of joy, a stout, homely-looking young woman
started up, exclaiming, "Sister Jane!" and flew into her arms. Upon
which Miss Woodfor