hiffonnier. "I've never seen such peculiar pictures. The
little girls have white trousers right down to their ankles, and the
boys have deep frilled collars and quite long hair."

"They are very old-fashioned books," said Mrs. Stewart, examining with a
smile "The Youth's Moral Miscellany," "The Maiden's Garland," "A
Looking-Glass for the Mind," and "Instructive Stories for Young People,"
which, with a well-thumbed edition of "Sandford and Merton," a battered
copy of "The History of the Fairchild Family," and a few bound volumes
of _Chambers's Journal_, made up the extent of the library. "I should
think they must have belonged to Mrs. Jackson's mother or grandmother
for this one has the date 1820 written inside it."

"Of course they don't look so nice as my books at home," said Isobel;
"but they'd be something new."

"You're such a greedy reader that no doubt you will get through them,
however dry they may prove," laughed her mother. "Here comes our tea. We
shall enjoy new-laid eggs and fresh country butter, shan't we?"

"I wonder if they're from Mr. Binks's farm," said Isobel, seating
herself at the table.--"Do you know Mr. Binks, Mrs. Jackson? He said I
was to ask you, and he was sure you wouldn't deny the acquaintance."

"Know Peter Binks, miss!" exclaimed Mrs. Jackson. "Why, there isn't a
soul in Silversands as doesn't know him. Binks has lived at the White
Coppice ever since I was a girl, and afore then, and him church-warden
too, and owner of the _Britannia_, as good a schooner as any about. His
wife's second cousin is married to my daughter, and livin' at Ferndale.
Know him! I should just say I do!"

"I thought you would!" said Isobel delightedly. "We met him in the train
as we were coming. He gave me his seat by the window, and asked us to
go to his farm some day. You'll be able to tell us the way, won't you?"

"Another time, dear child," said Mrs. Stewart "Mrs. Jackson's busy now,
and our tea is waiting.--Thank you; yes, I think we have everything we
need at present. Polly might bring a little boiling water in a few
minutes, and we will ring the bell if we require anything more.--Come,
Isobel, you said you were hungry!"

"A nice-spoken lady," said Mrs. Jackson afterwards to her husband in the
privacy of the kitchen. "Any one could see with half an eye as they was
gentlefolk, though they've only taken the back room. I wonder, now, if
they can be any relation to old Mr. Stewart at the Chase. They did say
a