ne that I'm giving way--but if, by any
possible chance, I were to yield, could you, my darling, live without
your girls?"

"With you--I could," she answered, and she held out her hand to him,
which he raised to his lips and kissed.

"Well, I am upset," he said. "If only Miss Beverley and Bennett were
not so silly, we should not be in this awkward fix. I'll go for a
ride, if you don't mind, Sylvia, and be back with you in an hour's
time."

During that ride Mr. Cardew felt as a strong man does when his most
cherished wishes are opposed, and when circumstance, with its
overpowering weight, bears down every objection. Beyond doubt the
girls must be educated. Beyond doubt the scheme of living in London
could not be entertained. Country life was essential. Meredith Manor
must not be deserted for the greater part of the year. He might visit
the girls whenever he went to London; but, after all, he was now more
or less a sleeping partner in his great firm. There was no necessity
for him to go to London more than four or five times a year. Oh!
school was hateful, but little Merry had longed for it. How
troublesome education was! Surely the girls knew enough.

He was riding home, his thoughts still in a most perturbed condition,
when he suddenly drew up just in front of a little figure who stood by
the roadside, attired as a gipsy, with a scarlet bandana handkerchief
twisted round her head, a short skirt reaching not quite to her ankles
made also of scarlet, and a little gay blue shawl across her
shoulders. She was carrying a tambourine in one hand and in the other
a great bunch of many-colored ribbons.

This little, unexpected figure was seen close to the rectory grounds,
and Mr. Cardew was so startled by it, and so also was his horse, that
he drew up abruptly and looked imperiously at the small suppliant for
his favor.

"If you please, sir," said Maggie Howland, speaking in her most
enticing voice, and knowing well that her dress magnified her charms,
"will you, kind sir, allow me to cross your hand with silver and let
me tell your fortune?"

Mr. Cardew now burst into a merry laugh.

"Why, Miss Howland," he said, "I beg your pardon; I did not recognize
you."

Maggie dropped a low curtsy. "I'm the gipsy girl Caranina, and I
should like to tell your fortune, kind and generous sir."

Just then the pretty face of Cicely was seen peeping over the rectory
grounds. She was dressed as a flower-girl, and looked more lovely