eep Richard at home this next term--it won't do to have no one in
the house to carry poor Margaret. We can't do without him anyway, so
he and Ethel have a scheme of seeing what can be done for that wretched
place, Cocksmoor."

"Indeed!" said Mr. Wilmot, brightening and looking interested. "It is
sadly destitute. It would be a great thing if anything could be done
for it. You have brought some children to school already, I think. I saw
some rough-looking boys, who said they came from Cocksmoor."

This embarked the doctor in the history of the ladies being too fine to
teach the poor Cocksmoor girls, which he told with kindling vehemence
and indignation, growing more animated every moment, as he stormed over
the wonted subject of the bad system of management--ladies' committee,
negligent incumbent, insufficient clergy, misappropriated tithes--while
Mr. Wilmot, who had mourned over it, within himself, a hundred times
already, and was doing a curate's work on sufferance, with no pay, and
little but mistrust from Mr. Ramsden, and absurd false reports among the
more foolish part of the town, sat listening patiently, glad to hear
the doctor in his old strain, though it was a hopeless matter for
discussion, and Ethel dreaded that the lamentation would go on till
bedtime, and Cocksmoor be quite forgotten.

After a time they came safely back to the project, and Richard was
called on to explain. Ethel left it all to him, and he with rising
colour, and quiet, unhesitating, though diffident manner, detailed
designs that showed themselves to have been well matured. Mr. Wilmot
heard, cordially approved, and, as all agreed that no time was to be
lost, while the holidays lasted, he undertook to speak to Mr. Ramsden on
the subject the next morning, and if his consent to their schemes could
be gained, to come in the afternoon to walk with Richard and Ethel to
Cocksmoor, and set their affairs in order. All the time Ethel said not
a word, except when referred to by her brother; but when Mr. Wilmot took
leave, he shook her hand warmly, as if he was much pleased with her.
"Ah!" she thought, "if he knew how ill I have behaved! It is all show
and hollowness with me."

She did not know that Mr. Wilmot thought her silence one of the best
signs for the plan, nor how much more doubtful he would have thought her
perseverance, if he had seen her wild and vehement. As it was, he was
very much pleased, and when the doctor came out with him into the h