oom. No one was there, so he went on into the
garden.

Here he found the family and the visitors all assembled together; but
a great change had passed over the whole party during his absence. Mr.
Blyth, on being informed of the result of the rector's conversation
with Mrs. Peckover, acted with his usual impetuosity and utter want of
discretion; writing down delightedly on little Mary's slate, without the
slightest previous preparation or coaxing, that she was to go home with
him to-morrow, and be as happy as the day was long, all the rest of her
life. The result of this incautious method of proceeding was that the
child became excessively frightened, and ran away from everybody to take
refuge with Mrs. Peckover. She was still crying, and holding tight by
the good woman's gown with both hands; and Valentine was still loudly
declaring to everybody that he loved her all the better for showing
such faithful affection to her earliest and best friend, when the rector
joined the party under the coolly-murmuring trees.

Doctor Joyce spoke but briefly of his interview with Mr. Jubber,
concealing much that had passed at it, and making very light of the
threats which the fellow had uttered on his departure. Mrs. Peckover,
whose self-possession seemed in imminent danger of being overthrown by
little Mary's mute demonstrations of affection, listened anxiously to
every word the Doctor uttered; and, as soon as he had done, said that
she must go back to the circus directly, and tell her husband the truth
about all that had occurred, as a necessary set-off against the slanders
that were sure to be spoken against her by Mr. Jubber.

"Oh, never mind me, ma'am!" she said, in answer to the apprehensions
expressed by Mrs. Joyce about her reception when she got to the circus.
"The dear child's safe; and that's all I care about. I'm big enough and
strong enough to take my own part; and Jemmy, he's always by to help
me when I can't. May I come back, if you please, sir, this evening; and
say--and say?--"

She would have added, "and say good-bye;" but the thoughts which now
gathered round that one word, made it too hard to utter. She silently
curtseyed her thanks for the warm invitation that was given to her to
return; stooped down to the child; and, kissing her, wrote on the
slate, "I shall be back, dear, in the evening, at seven o'clock"--then
disengaged the little hands that still held fast by her gown, and
hurried from the garden, without