she was entered at the Training College for
Teachers, and at twenty-one nominated to a school in the country, near
Tor-upon-Sea, whither she proceeded after the Christmas examination
and holidays.

The months passed by from winter to spring and summer, and Baptista
applied herself to her new duties as best she could, till an
uneventful year had elapsed. Then an air of abstraction pervaded her
bearing as she walked to and fro, twice a day, and she showed the
traits of a person who had something on her mind. A widow, by name
Mrs Wace, in whose house Baptista Trewthen had been provided with a
sitting-room and bedroom till the schoolhouse should be built, noticed
this change in her youthful tenant's manner, and at last ventured to
press her with a few questions.

'It has nothing to do with the place, nor with you,' said Miss
Trewthen.

'Then it is the salary?'

'No, nor the salary.'

'Then it is something you have heard from home, my dear.'

Baptista was silent for a few moments. 'It is Mr Heddegan,' she
murmured. 'Him they used to call David Heddegan before he got his
money.'

'And who is the Mr Heddegan they used to call David?'

'An old bachelor at Giant's Town, St Maria's, with no relations
whatever, who lives about a stone's throw from father's. When I was a
child he used to take me on his knee and say he'd marry me some day.
Now I am a woman the jest has turned earnest, and he is anxious to do
it. And father and mother say I can't do better than have him.'

'He's well off?'

'Yes--he's the richest man we know--as a friend and neighbour.'

'How much older did you say he was than yourself?'

'I didn't say. Twenty years at least.'

'And an unpleasant man in the bargain perhaps?'

'No--he's not unpleasant.'

'Well, child, all I can say is that I'd resist any such engagement
if it's not palatable to 'ee. You are comfortable here, in my little
house, I hope. All the parish like 'ee: and I've never been so
cheerful, since my poor husband left me to wear his wings, as I've
been with 'ee as my lodger.'

The schoolmistress assured her landlady that she could return the
sentiment. 'But here comes my perplexity,' she said. 'I don't like
keeping school. Ah, you are surprised--you didn't suspect it. That's
because I've concealed my feeling. Well, I simply hate school. I don't
care for children--they are unpleasant, troublesome little things,
whom nothing would delight so much as to hear that you had fallen
do