s selection, whose chief tendency was towards grammar, physical
geography, and advanced arithmetic, which told well in the inspector's
report. Miss Buff was strong also in the matter of needle, work and
knitting--she would even have had the boys knit--but here she had
sustained defeat.

Mr. Carnegie's first visit was to Mrs. Christie, who, since she had
recovered her normal state of health, had resumed her habit of drugging
and complaining. Her son was now at home, and when the doctor and Bessie
rode across the green to the wheelwright's house there was the artist at
work, with a companion under his white umbrella. His companion wore a
maize pique dress and a crimson sash; a large leghorn hat, garnished
with poppies and wheat-ears, hid her face.

"There is Miss Fairfax herself, Janey," whispered young Christie in an
encouraging tone. "Don't be afraid."

Janey half raised her head and gazed at Bessie with shy, distrustful
eyes. Bessie, quite unconscious, reined in Miss Hoyden under the shadow
of a spreading tree to wait while the doctor paid his visit in-doors.
She perceived that there was a whispering between the two under the
white umbrella, and with a pleasant recognition of the young man she
looked another way. After the lapse of a few minutes he approached her,
an unusual modest suffusion overspreading his pale face, and said, "Miss
Fairfax, there is somebody here you once knew. She is very timid, and
says she dares not claim your remembrance, because you must have thought
she had forgotten you."

Bessie turned her head towards the diffident small personage who was
regarding her from the distance. "Is it Janey Fricker?" she asked with a
pleased, amused light in her face.

"It is Janey Christie." In fact, the artist was now making his
wedding-tour, and Janey was his wife.

"Oh," said Bessie, "then this was why your portfolio was so full of
sketches at Yarmouth. I wish I had known before."

Janey's face was one universal blush as she came forward and looked up
in Miss Fairfax's handsome, beneficent face. There had always been an
indulgent protectiveness in Bessie's manner to the master-mariner's
little daughter, and it came back quite naturally. Janey expected hasty
questions, perhaps reproaches, perhaps coldness, but none of these were
in Bessie's way. She had never felt herself ill used by Janey, and in
the joy of the sudden rencounter did not recollect that she had anything
to forgive. She said how she had