posed that he had married beneath him; but the opinion now
was that this must have been a mistake, for there was nothing in any
way vulgar about the quiet, military-looking gentleman, with whom the
squire was evidently on terms of warm friendship.

The only person somewhat dissatisfied with the arrangement was James
Walsham. He loved his mother so much, that he had never offered the
slightest dissent to her plan, that he should follow in his father's
footsteps. She was so much set on the matter, that he could never bring
himself to utter a word in opposition. At heart, however, he longed for
a more stirring and more adventurous life, such as that of a soldier or
sailor, and he had all along cherished a secret hope, that something
might occur to prevent his preparing for the medical profession, and so
enable him to carry out his secret wishes. But the present arrangement
seemed to put an end to all such hopes, and, although grateful to the
squire for sending him to a good school, he wished, with all his heart,
that he had chosen some other way of manifesting his gratitude.

Four years passed quietly. James Walsham worked hard when at school,
and, during his holidays, spent his time for the most part on board the
fishermen's boats. Sometimes he went up to the Hall, generally at the
invitation of Mr. Wilks.

"Why don't you come oftener, Jim?" the latter asked him one day. "Aggie
was saying, only yesterday, that you used to be such friends with her,
and now you hardly ever come near her. The squire is as pleased as I am
to see you."

"I don't know," Jim replied. "You see, I am always comfortable with
you. I can chat with you, and tell you about school, and about fishing,
and so on. The squire is very kind, but I know it is only because of
that picking Aggie out of the water, and I never seem to know what to
talk about with him. And then, you see, Aggie is growing a young lady,
and can't go rambling about at my heels as she used to do, when she was
a little girl. I like her, you know, Mr. Wilks, just as I used to do;
but I can't carry her on my shoulder now, and make a playfellow of
her."

"I suppose that's all natural enough, Jim," Aggie's grandfather said;
"but I do think it is a pity you don't come up more often. You know we
are all fond of you, and it will give us a pleasure to have you here."

Jim was, in fact, getting to the awkward age with boys. When younger,
they tyrannize over their little sisters, when older