much resolution.

The doctor found that Meta Rivers and her brother had brought Flora
home, and were in the drawing-room, where Margaret was hearing another
edition of the history of the fair, and a by-play was going on, of
teasing Blanche about the chain.

George Rivers was trying to persuade her to make one for him; and her
refusal came out at last, in an almost passionate key, in the midst of
the other conversation--"No! I say-no!"

"Another no, and that will be yes."

"No! I won't! I don't like you well enough!"

Margaret gravely sent Blanche and the other children away to take their
walk, and the brother and sister soon after took leave, when Flora
called Ethel to hasten to the Ladies' Committee, that they might arrange
the disposal of the one hundred and fifty pounds, the amount of their
gains.

"To see the fate of Cocksmoor," said Ethel.

"Do you think I cannot manage the Stoneborough folk?" said Flora,
looking radiant with good humour, and conscious of power. "Poor Ethel!
I am doing you good against your will! Never mind, here is wherewith to
build the school, and the management will be too happy to fall into
our hands. Do you think every one is as ready as you are, to walk three
miles and back continually?"

There was sense in this; there always was sense in what Flora said, but
it jarred on Ethel; and it seemed almost unsympathising in her to be so
gay, when the rest were wearied or perturbed. Ethel would have been very
glad of a short space to recollect herself, and recover her good temper;
but it was late, and Flora hurried her to put on her bonnet, and come to
the committee. "I'll take care of your interests," she said, as they
set out. "You look as doleful as if you thought you should be robbed of
Cocksmoor; but that is the last thing that will happen, you will see."

"It would not be acting fairly to let them build for us, and then for us
to put them out of the management," said Ethel.

"My dear, they want importance, not action. They will leave the real
power to us of themselves."

"You like to build Cocksmoor with such instruments," said Ethel, whose
ruffled condition made her forget her resolution not to argue with
Flora.

"Bricks are made of clay!" said Flora. "There, that was said like Norman
himself! On your plan, we might have gone on for forty years, saving
seven shillings a year, and spending six, whenever there was an illness
in the place."

"You, who used to dislike these peop