t of
riot and fun; Aubrey was always playing at "poor Harry sailing away,"
Mary looked staid and sober, and Norman was still graver, and more
devoted to books, while Ethel gave herself up more completely to the
thickening troubles of Cocksmoor.

Jealousies had arisen there, and these, with some rebukes for failures
in sending children to be taught, had led to imputations on the
character of Mrs. Green, in whose house the school was kept. Ethel
was at first vehement in her defence; then when stronger evidence was
adduced of the woman's dishonesty, she was dreadfully shocked, and
wanted to give up all connection with her, and in both moods was equally
displeased with Richard for pausing, and not going all lengths with her.

Mr. Wilmot was appealed to, and did his best to investigate, but the
only result was to discover that no one interrogated had any notion of
truth, except John Taylor, and he knew nothing of the matter. The mass
of falsehood, spite, violence, and dishonesty, that became evident,
was perfectly appalling, and not a clue was to be found to the
truth--scarcely a hope that minds so lost to honourable feeling were
open to receive good impressions. It was a great distress to Ethel--it
haunted her night and day--she lay awake pondering on the vain hopes
for her poor children, and slept to dream of the angry faces and rude
accusations. Margaret grew quite anxious about her, and her elders were
seriously considering the propriety of her continuing her labours at
Cocksmoor.

Mr. Wilmot would not be at Stoneborough after Christmas. His father's
declining health made him be required at home, and since Richard was so
often absent, it became matter of doubt whether the Misses May ought to
be allowed to persevere, unassisted by older heads, in such a locality.

This doubt put Ethel into an agony. Though she had lately been declaring
that it made her very unhappy to go--she could not bear the sight of
Mrs. Green, and that she knew all her efforts were vain while the poor
children had such homes; she now only implored to be allowed to go on;
she said that the badness of the people only made it more needful to
do their utmost for them; there were no end to the arguments that she
poured forth upon her ever kind listener, Margaret.

"Yes, dear Ethel, yes, but pray be calm; I know papa and Mr. Wilmot
would not put a stop to it if they could possibly help it, but if it is
not proper--"

"Proper! that is as bad as Miss