the bottom of his heart.

"Well, I shall hope much from Sir Matthew's taking him in hand," said
Margaret cheerfully; "he will mind him, though he will not Mr. Ward."

"I wish the holidays were over!" said Norman, with a yawn, as expressive
as a sigh.

"That's not civil, on the third day," said Margaret, smiling, "when I am
so glad to have you to look after me, so as to set Flora at liberty."

"What, can I do you any good?" said Norman, with a shade of his former
alacrity.

"To be sure you can, a great deal. Better not come near me otherwise,
for I make every one into a slave. I want my morning reading now--that
book on Advent, there."

"Shall I read it to you?"

"Thank you, that's nice, and I shall get on with baby's frock."

Norman read, but, ere long, took to yawning; Margaret begged for the
book, which he willingly resigned, saying, however, that he liked it,
only he was stupid. She read on aloud, till she heard a succession of
heavy breathings, and saw him fast asleep, and so he continued till
waked by his father's coming home.

Richard and Ethel were glad of a walk, for Margaret had found them a
pleasant errand. Their Cocksmoor children could not go home to dinner
between service and afternoon school, and Margaret had desired the cook
to serve them up some broth in the back kitchen, to which the brother
and sister were now to invite them. Mary was allowed to take her boots
to Rebekah Watts, since Margaret held that goodness had better be
profitable, at least at the outset; and Harry and Tom joined the party.

Norman, meantime, was driving his father--a holiday preferment highly
valued in the days when Dr. May used only to assume the reins, when his
spirited horses showed too much consciousness that they had a young
hand over them, or when the old hack took a fit of laziness. Now, Norman
needed Richard's assurance that the bay was steady, so far was he from
being troubled with his ancient desire, that the steed would rear right
up on his hind legs.

He could neither talk nor listen till he was clear out of the town, and
found himself master of the animal, and even then the words were few,
and chiefly spoken by Dr. May, until after going along about three miles
of the turnpike road, he desired Norman to turn down a cross-country
lane.

"Where does this lead?"

"It comes out at Abbotstoke, but I have to go to an outlying farm."

"Papa," said Norman, after a few minutes, "I wish you would let me do my