ngs were going
on well, she at last ventured to inquire how Betty liked her new help.

"She's a sharp little thing, Miss," said Betty. "Of course she's
strange to the ways of a house, coming from where she does. But she's
willing, that's the great thing."

"Can the child read and write?" was Miss Unity's next question.

But Betty seemed to think she had nothing whatever to do with this part
of Kettles' education.

"I'm sure I don't know, Miss," she said. "I've enough to do to teach
her to sweep a room properly."

Upon inquiry it was found that Kettles did not even know her letters.

"I never had no time to go to school," she said, "and I don't want to,
either."

"But," said Miss Unity, greatly distressed, "you can't read your Bible,
then, Keturah."

"Mother, she reads the Bible," said Kettles, as though that were
sufficient.

Miss Unity went upstairs full of uneasy thought. What could be done?
She could not send Keturah to school. It would be absurd to provide
Betty with help, and then to take it away for half the day. She could
not ask Betty to teach her. Finally, she could not let the child remain
in this dreadful state of ignorance. There was one way out of the
difficulty which stared Miss Unity in the face, however much she tried
to avoid seeing it. She could teach Keturah herself in the evening
after her work was done. Miss Unity shrank from it. She had never been
brought close to poor people, and she had never taught anyone anything
in her life. She was as shy of Kettles as though she were a grown-up
woman, and it was altogether a most distasteful idea. Do what she
would, however, she could not get rid of it. Her sense of duty at
length conquered, as usual, and Keturah, with very clean hands and an
immense white apron, appeared in the sitting-room one night to take her
first lesson.

Miss Unity felt very nervous at first, and it was strange to have
Kettles so close to her, but by degrees this wore off, and she even
began to feel a sort of pleasure in the lessons. It was no trouble to
teach her, for, as Betty said, she was "one of the sharp ones," and was,
besides, eager to do her best. Not because she wished to know how to
read, which she rather despised, but because she wanted very much to
please her mistress, for whom she had a great admiration.

So things went on very well at Nearminster, both upstairs and
down-stairs, and the time soon came when Miss Unity found herself
looking f