u; and I will come with
it, and take you away. I will indeed."

"Nonsense, my dear," said Lady Carse.

"Nonsense, my dear," said the pastor.

Lady Carse laughed at this accord. Mrs Ruthven cried.

"If you get away," said Lady Carse, more gently, "you may be sure you
will not leave me behind."

"It is all nonsense, the whole of it, about this vessel and the
steward," Mr Ruthven pronounced. "The steward comes, as usual, for the
feather-rent."

"It is not the season for the feather-rent," declared Lady Carse.

"The steward comes when it suits his convenience," decided the pastor;
"the season is a matter of but secondary regard."

"You are mistaken," said the lady. "I have lived here longer than you;
and I know that he comes at the regular seasons, and at no other time."

"Oh, here are the children," observed Mrs Ruthven, hoping to break up
the party. "My dears, don't leave the room; I want you to stay beside
me. There now, you may each carry your own porridge-bowl into the
kitchen, and then you may come back for papa's and mine."

Mr Ruthven stalked out into the garden, to find fault with his
cabbages, if they were not growing dutifully. Lady Carse stood by the
window, fretted at the thick seamy glass which prevented her seeing
anything clearly. Mrs Ruthven sat down to sew.

"Mamma," said Adam, presently, "what is a Pretender?"

"A what, my dear?--a Pretender? I really scarcely know. That is a
question that you should ask your papa. A Pretender?"

"No, no, Adam. It is Adventurer. That was what the steward said. I
know it, because that is the name of one of papa's books. I will show
it you."

"I know that," said Adam. "But Widow Fleming called it Pretender, too."

"What's that?" cried Lady Carse, turning hastily from the window. "What
are you talking about?"

The children looked at each other, as they usually did when somebody
must answer the lady. "What are you talking about?"

"The steward says the Pretender has come: and we do not know what that
means."

"The Pretender come!" cried Mrs Ruthven, letting fall her work. "What
shall we do for news? Run, my dears, and ask Widow Fleming all about
it. I can't leave Lady Carse, you see."

The children declared they dared not go. Widow Fleming was busy; and
she had sent them away. "Then go and tell your father. Ask him to come
in." Mr Ruthven was shocked into his usual manners when he saw Lady
Carse unable to stand or speak. His a