ould not interrupt him again.

They had just passed Mr Bramshaw's office, when a voice was heard
behind, calling, "Miss Ethel! Miss Ethel!" and Edward Anderson, now
articled to Mr. Bramshaw, burst out, pen in hand, and looking shabby and
inky.

"Miss Ethel!" he said breathlessly, "I beg your pardon, but have you
heard from Harry?"

"No!" said Ethel. "Have they had that paper at home?"

"Not that I know of," said Edward. "My mother wanted to send it, but I
would not take it--not while Dr. May was away."

"Thank you--that was very kind of you."

"And oh! Miss Ethel, do you think it is true?"

"We hope not," said Ethel kindly--"we saw a Captain at Oxford who
thought it not at all to be depended on."

"I am so glad," said Edward; and, shaking hands, he went back to his
high stool, Ethel feeling that he deserved the pains that Norman
had taken to spare and befriend him. She spoke to her companion in
explanation. "We are very anxious for news of my next brother's ship,
Alcestis, in the Pacific--"

"More!" exclaimed poor Dr. Spencer, almost overpowered; "Good Heavens! I
thought May, at least, was happy!"

"He is not unhappy," said Ethel, not sorry that they had arrived at the
back entrance of the shrubbery.

"How long ago was this?" said he, standing still, as soon as they had
passed into the garden.

"Four years, next October. I assure you, his spirits are almost always
good."

"When I was at Adelaide, little thinking!" he sighed, then recollecting
himself. "Forgive me, I have given you pain."

"No," she said, "or rather, I gave you more."

"I knew her--" and there he broke off, paused for a minute, then
collecting himself, seemed resolutely to turn away from the subject, and
said, walking on, "This garden is not much altered."

At that moment, a little shrill voice broke out in remonstrance among
the laurels--"But you know, Daisy, you are the captain of the forty
thieves!"

"A startling announcement!" said Dr. Spencer, looking at Ethel, and the
next two steps brought them in view of the play-place in the laurels,
where Aubrey lay on the ground, feigning sleep, but keeping a watchful
eye over Blanche, who was dropping something into the holes of inverted
flower-pots, Gertrude dancing about in a way that seemed to have called
for the reproof of the more earnest actors.

"Ethel! Ethel!" screamed the children, with one voice, and, while the
two girls stood in shyness at her companion, Aubrey had made a da