ried their mother, catching the
younger of the two, a bluff copy of herself, and offering him to Bessie
to kiss. Bessie kissed him heartily. "You are fond of children, I can
see," said her new friend.

"I like a houseful! Oh, when have I had a nice kiss at a boy's hard,
round cheeks? Not for years! years! I have five little brothers and two
sisters at home."

Mrs. Stokes regarded Bessie with a touched surprise, but she asked no
questions; she knew her story in a general inaccurate way. The boy gazed
in her face with a pretty lovingness, rubbed his nose suddenly against
hers, wrestled himself out of her embrace, and ran away. "When you feel
as if you want a good kiss, come to my house," said his mother, her blue
eyes shining tenderly. "It must be dreadful to miss little children when
you have lived with them. I could not bear it. Abbotsmead always looks
to me like a great dull splendid prison."

"My grandfather makes it as pleasant to me as he can; I don't repine,"
said Bessie quickly. "He has given me a beautiful little filly to ride,
but she is not quite trained yet; and I shall beg him to let me have a
companionable dog; I love a dog."

The church-bells began to ring for afternoon service. Mrs. Stokes shook
her head at Bessie's query: nobody ever went, she said, but servants and
poor people. Evening service there was none, and Mr. Forbes dined with
the squire; that also was an institution. The gentlemen talked of
parochial matters, and Bessie, wisely inferring that they could talk
more freely in her absence, left them to themselves and retreated to her
private parlor, to read a little and dream a great deal of her friends
in the Forest.

At dusk there was a loud jangling indoors and out, and Mrs. Betts
summoned her young lady down stairs. She met her grandfather and Mr.
Forbes issuing from the dining-room, and they passed together into the
hall, where the servants of the house stood on parade to receive their
pastor and master. They were assembled for prayers. Once a week, after
supper, this compliment was paid to the Almighty--a remnant of ancient
custom which the squire refused to alter or amend. When Bessie had
assisted at this ceremony she had gone through the whole duty of the
day, and her reflection on her experience since she came to Abbotsmead
was that life as a pageant must be dull--duller than life as a toil.

CHAPTER XXI.

_A DISCOVERY._

While Bessie Fairfax was pronouncing the web of her