boy had a tendency to chaff.

"Well, my lady, has your ladyship any orders?"

"Nothink to-day," answered the domestic, curtly.

"What! Nothink at all? Goin' to fast to-morrow, eh? Or to live on
stooed hatmospheric hair with your own sauce for gravey--hey?"

"No, we doesn't want nothink," repeated the domestic, stoutly. "Missus
said so, an' she bid me ask you if you'd like a cup of tea?"

The butcher's boy opened his mouth and eyes in amazement. To have his
own weapons thus turned, as he thought, against him by one who was
usually rather soft and somewhat shy of him, took him quite aback. He
recovered, however, quickly, and made a rush at the girl, who, as
before, attempted to shut the door with a bang, but the boy was too
sharp for her. His foot prevented her succeeding, and there is no doubt
that in another moment he would have forcibly entered the house, if he
had not been seized from behind by the collar in the powerful grasp of
Edgar Berrington, who sent him staggering into the street. The boy did
not wait for more. With a wild-Indian war-whoop he turned and fled.

Excited, and, to some extent, exasperated by this last visit, the small
domestic received Edgar with a one-third timid, one-third gleeful, and
one-third reckless spirit.

"What did the boy mean?" asked Edgar, as he turned towards her.

"Please, sir, 'e wouldn't 'ave a cup of tea, sir," she replied meekly,
then, with a gleam of hope in her eyes--"Will _you_ 'ave one, sir?"

"You're a curious creature," answered Edgar, with a smile. "Is Miss
Pritty at home?"

"No, sir, she ain't."

This answer appeared to surprise and annoy him.

"Very odd," he said, with a little frown. "Did she not expect me?"

"No, sir, I think she didn't. Leastways she didn't say as she did, but
she was very partikler in tellin' me to be sure to hoffer you a cup of
tea."

Edgar looked at the small domestic, and, as he looked, his mouth
expanded. _Her_ mouth followed suit, and they both burst into a fit of
laughter. After a moment or two the former recovered.

"This is all very pleasant, no doubt," he said, "but it is uncommonly
awkward. Did she say when she would be home?"

"No, sir, she didn't, but she bid me say if any one wanted her, that
they'd find her at Sea Cottage."

"At Sea Cottage--who lives there?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Where is it?"

"On the sea-shore, sir."

"Which way--_this_ way or _that_ way?" asked Edgar, pointing right and
le