s stead.

Emily, as she hearkened to Justina's wise and kindly talk, so well
considered and suitable for the part she hoped to play--Emily began to
pity John herself. She wanted something so much better for him. She
reflected that she would gladly be the governess there, as she could not
be the wife, if that would save John from throwing himself into
matrimony for his children's sake; and yet had she not thought a year
ago that Justina was quite good enough for him? Ah, well! but she had
not troubled herself then to learn the meaning of his voice, and look so
much as once into the depths of his eyes.

Lunch was no sooner over than the children were eager to show the
flowers, and all went out. Barbara and Gladys followed, and spoke when
appealed to; but they were not able to control their shoulders so well
as they did their tongues. Young girls, when reluctant to do any
particular thing, often find their shoulders in the way. These useful,
and generally graceful, portions of the human frame appear on such
occasions to feel a wish to put themselves forward, as if to bear the
brunt of it, and their manner is to do this edgeways.

Emily heard Justina invited to see the rabbits and all the other pets,
and knew she would do so, and also manage to make the children take her
over the whole place, house included. She, however, felt a shrinking
from this inspection, an unwonted diffidence and shyness made her almost
fancy it would be taking a liberty. Not that John would think so. Oh,
no; he would never think about it.

They soon went to look at the flowers; and there was old Swan ready to
exhibit and set off their good points.

"And so you had another prize, Nicholas. I congratulate you," remarked
Emily.

"Well, yes, ma'am, I had another. I almost felt, if I failed, it would
serve me right for trying too often. I said it was not my turn. 'Turn,'
said the umpire; 'it's merit we go by, not turn, Mr. Swan,' said he."

"And poor Raby took a prize again, I hear," said Emily. "That man seems
to be getting on, Swan."

"He does, ma'am; he's more weak than wicked, that man is. You can't make
him hold up his head; and he's allers contradicting himself. He promised
his vote last election to both sides. 'Why,' said I, 'what's the good
of that, William? Folks'll no more pay you for your words when you've
eaten them than they will for your bacon.' But that man really couldn't
make up his mind which side should bribe him. Still, Willi