Bessie's frank rejoinder.

"And who else is there that you used to like? Fanny Mitten has married a
clerk in the Hampton Bank, and Miss Ely is married; but she was married
in London. I was in great hopes once that old Phipps would take Miss
Thusy O'Flynn, and a sweet pair they would have been; but he thought
better of it, and she went away as she came. Her aunt was a good old
soul, and what did it matter if she was vulgar? We were very sorry to
lose her contralto in the choir." Miss Buff's gossip was almost run out.
Bessie remembered little Christie to inquire for him. "Little
Christie--who is he? I never heard of him. Oh, the wheelwright's son who
went away to be an artist! I don't know. The old man made me a
garden-barrow once, and charged me enormously; and when I told him it
was too dear, he said it would last me my life. Such impertinence! The
common people grow very independent."

Bessie had heard the anecdote of the garden-barrow before. It spoke
volumes for the peace and simplicity of Miss Buff's life that she still
recollected and cited this ancient grievance. A few more words of the
doctor and his household, a few doubts and fears on Bessie's part that
her telegram might be delayed, and a few cheery predictions on Miss
Buff's, and they said good-bye, with the expression of a cordial hope
that they might meet soon again, and meet in the Forest. Bessie Fairfax
was amused and exhilarated by this familiar tattle about her beloved
Beechhurst. It had dissipated the shadows of her three years' absence,
and made home present to her once more. Nothing seems trivial that
concerns places and people dear to young affections, and all the keener
became her desire to be amongst them. She consulted Smith's boy as to
the probable time of the arrival of her telegram at the doctor's house;
she studied the table of the steamboats. She regretted bitterly that she
had not written the first day at Ryde; then pleaded her own excuse
because letters were a rarity for her to write, and had hitherto
required a formal permission.

Mrs. Betts lingered with her long and patiently upon the pier, but the
Gardiners did not come down again, and by and by Mrs. Betts, feeling the
approach of dinner-time, began to look out towards the yacht. After a
minute's steady observation she said, half to herself, but seriously, "I
do believe they are making ready to sail. There is a boat alongside with
bread and things."

"To sail! To leave Ryde! Oh, do