akes for supper, and you shall have some wine to drink."

Just then the maid entered, and in spite of herself Beatrice was soon
enjoying a hearty meal.

"Oh there is half past nine!" cried Mrs. Langton, "Lily and Tina go to
bed at once, Mary can wait up for Beatrice if she likes."

The two little children ran off hand in hand murmering "lucky Mary."

CHAPTER 3

It was eight o'clock next morning when Beatrice opened her weary eyes
and look round her little room. She jumped up immediately and ran down
to breakfast.

Her father had just gone off to his farming, but her mother was sitting
in her accustomed place by the fireside reading a letter which was
evidently causing her some anxiety.

"Well Mother" cried Beatrice, "what is the matter?"

"Well dear" replied Mrs. Langton, sipping her tea as she spoke, "I have
had a letter from Mrs. Vindsor who went abroad last year, and she wants
you to go and spend the winter with her in Paris. I would like you to go
dear, but you are my eldest child and you are by no means strong."

"Oh Mother do let me go, I should enjoy it, and you know I am much
stronger since I took to eating Mother Segul's Syrup."

"I know my love" said Mrs. Langton, "I will speak to your father about
it, and in the meantime pour me out another cup of tea please."

Beatrice caught hold of the teapot smiling happily as she did so; her
father was not the man to say no, and what he said her mother seldom
differed from; so she cut her bread and carved her bacon singing a merry
song through it all. After breakfast Beatrice dusted the room, got the
children ready for school, and then adjusting a straw hat upon her
golden tresses she prepared herself for a saunter through the beautiful
fields fresh with the smell of new mown hay and Alderny cows. She
gathered flowers as she went and though she felt bright and happy by the
news the post had brought there was a sore corner in her heart--she had
quarrelled with Lawrence Cathcart, and there was not a man in Senbury
Glen who did not know his temper! As she strolled along she caught sight
of Mr. Langton who was discussing the subject of Welsh sheep with a
tradesman. He saw Beatrice and walked towards her.

"Well Bia," he cried, "looking at my cows? aren't they lovely?"

"Beautiful Father," cried Beatrice, "but do you know Mrs. Vindsor wants
me to go to Paris and spend the winter with her family, and may I go?"

"Yes certainly," said Mr. Langton, "and I