lawn
stoop to his task.

She returned to her pillow, and slept again until she was awakened by
somebody coming to her bedside. It was Mrs. Betts, bearing in her hands
one of those elegant china services for a solitary cup of tea which have
popularized that indulgence amongst ladies.

"What is it?" Bessie asked, gazing with a puzzled air at the tiny
turquoise-blue vessels. "Tea? I am going to get up to breakfast."

"Certainly, miss, I hope so. But it is a custom with many young ladies
to have a cup of tea before dressing."

"I will touch my bell if I want anything. No--no tea, thank you,"
responded Bessie; and the waiting-woman felt herself dismissed. Bessie
chose to make and unmake her toilette alone. It was easy to see that her
education had not been that of a young lady of quality, for she was
quite independent of her maid; but Mrs. Betts was a woman of experience
and made allowance for her, convinced that, give her time, she would be
helpless and exacting enough.

Mr. Fairfax and his granddaughter met in the inner hall with a polite
"Good-morning." Elizabeth looked shyly proud, but sweet as a dewy rose.
The door of communication with the great hall was thrown wide open. It
was all in cool shade, redolent of fresh air and the perfume of flowers.
Jonquil waited to usher them to breakfast, which was laid in the room
where they had dined last night.

Mr. Fairfax was never a talker, but he made an effort on behalf of
Bessie, with whom it was apparently good manners not to speak until she
was spoken to. "What will you do, Elizabeth, by way of making
acquaintance with your home? Will you have Macky with her legends of
family history and go over the house, or will you take a turn outside
with me and visit the stables?"

Bessie knew which it was her duty to prefer, and fortunately her duty
tallied with her inclination; her countenance beamed, and she said, "I
will go out with you, if you please."

"You ride, I know. There is a nice little filly breaking in for you: you
must name her, as she is to be yours."

"May I call her Janey?"

"Janey! Was that the name of Mr. Carnegie's little mare?"

"No; she was Miss Hoyden. Janey was the name of my first friend at
school. She went away soon, and I have never heard of her since. But I
shall: I often think of her."

"You have a constant memory, Elizabeth--not the best memory for your
happiness. What are you eating? Only bread and butter. Will you have no
sardines, baco