re pointed! But he has brought you at
any rate, and that is something! How did he achieve it?'

'Miss Fennimore is really quite ready to be kind,' said Phoebe,
earnestly, with an air of defence, 'whenever we have finished all that we
have to do.'

'And when is that?' asked Honor, smiling.

'Now for once,' answered Phoebe, with a bright arch look. 'Yes, I
sometimes can; and so does Bertha when she tries; and, indeed, Miss
Charlecote, I do like Miss Fennimore; she never is hard upon poor Maria.
No governess we ever had made her cry so seldom.'

Miss Charlecote only said it was a comfort. Within herself she hoped
that, for Maria's peace and that of all concerned, her deficiency might
become an acknowledged fact. She saw that the sparing Maria's tears was
such a boon to Phoebe as to make her forgive all overtasking of herself.

'So you get on better,' she said.

'Much better than Robin chooses to believe we do,' said Phoebe, smiling;
'perhaps it seemed hard at first, but it is comfortable to be made to do
everything thoroughly, and to be shown a better best than we had ever
thought of. I think it ought to be a help in doing the duty of all one's
life in a thorough way.'

'All that thou hast to do,' said Honor, smiling, 'the week-day side of
the fourth commandment.'

'Yes, that is just the reason why I like it,' said Phoebe, with bright
gladness in her countenance.

'But is that the motive Miss Fennimore puts before you?' said Honor, a
little ironically.

'She does not say so,' answered Phoebe. 'She says that she never
interferes with her pupils' religious tenets. But, indeed, I do not
think she teaches us anything wrong, and there is always Robert to ask.'

This passed as the two ladies were entering the house and preparing for
the evening meal. The table was placed in the bay of the open window,
and looked very inviting, the little silver tea-pot steaming beside the
two quaint china cups, the small crisp twists of bread, the butter cool
in ice-plant leaves, and some fresh fruit blushing in a pretty basket.
The Holt was a region of Paradise to Phoebe Fulmort; and glee shone upon
her sweet face, though it was very quiet enjoyment, as the summer breeze
played softly round her cheeks and danced with a merry little spiral that
had detached itself from her glossy folds of light hair.

'How delicious!' she said. 'How sweet the honeysuckle is, dear old
thing! You say you have known it all your life, and ye