rs.
Drabble. Lawrence will be out: that fellow always is out,'--in a humorous
tone of vexation. 'He makes himself so confoundedly agreeable that people
are always asking him to dinner: he is terribly secular, is Lawrence, but
he is young and will mend. Come up to the vicarage and dine with me,
Ursula; I want you to taste Mrs. Drabble's pancakes: they are food for
angels, as Lawrence always says.'

I accepted the invitation a little regretfully, for it seemed hard to
leave my hermitage the first evening; but then Uncle Max had been so good
to me that it would never do to disappoint him, and, as Mr. Tudor would
be out, we should be very cosy together.

Mrs. Barton brought in the ham and eggs at this moment, and I sat down
before my gay little tea-tray, marvelling secretly at the scarlet
flamingo. There were plenty of homely delicacies on the table,--hot cakes
and honey, and a basket of brown-and-yellow pippins. Uncle Max shook his
head and pretended the hot cakes would ruin his digestion, but he enjoyed
them all the same, and made an excellent meal.

We sat for a long time talking over the fire, chiefly of Lesbia and Jill,
for he took a warm interest in them both; but about eight o'clock he
remembered he had an engagement, and went off rather hurriedly, and I
went upstairs and unpacked one of my boxes, and arranged my clothes in
the chest of drawers and in the big, roomy cupboard.

When the church clock struck ten, I went down again in search of hot
water. At the sound of my footstep, Mrs. Barton came out in the passage
and invited me into the kitchen.

'There is only Nat there at his books,' she said, in her plaintive voice;
'he works late sometimes, though I tell him he uses up candle and
firelight. Please make yourself at home, Miss Garston; we shall always
be pleased to see you in our kitchen, when you like to pop in.'

'I hope I shall not come too often,' I returned, looking round at its
bright snug appearance. A square of dark carpet covered part of the
red-tiled floor; the round deal table in the centre was hidden under a
crimson cloth, and two big elbow-chairs stood on each side of the wide
fireplace. Nathaniel sat in one, with a little round table in front of
him, covered with books and papers, with a small lamp for his own use.
Mrs. Barton's work-box and mending-basket were on the centre table, the
hearth had just been swept up, there was a smell of hot bread, and a row
of freshly-baked loaves were cooling