once and more afterwards. Looking at it in
the most common-place way, it had all the
peace and plenty of an English farmhouse,
while for eyes that sought more they would
find enough that was picturesque in the
orchard's ruddy thickets, where the sun struck
fire on frosty mornings; in the wide pasture
lands sloping to the sedgy river, where the cows
cooled their feet on sultry evenings. You
know as well as I the curious bowery garden
beyond the lower window of the parlour,
stocked with riches and sweets of all kinds,
rows of beehives standing in the sun, roses and
raspberries growing side by side. The breath
of thyme and balm, lavender and myrtle, was
always in that parlour. You know the sheep-
fold and the paddock, the old tree over the
west gable where the owl made his nest—the
owl that used to come and sit on our school-
room window-sill and hoot at night. You
know the sun-dial where the screaming peacock
used to perch and spread his tail; the dove-
cote, where the silver-necks and fan-tails
used to coo and ruffle their feathers. You
know too, all the quaint plannings and
accidents of the old house; how the fiery creeper
ran riot through the ivy on the dark walls,
dangling its burning wreaths over the windows;
how the hall door lay open all day with the
dogs sleeping on the broad door-step. Also
within that there were long dark passages,
rooms with low ceilings; a step up here, and
a step down there; fireplaces twisted into odd
corners, narrow pointed windows, and wide
latticed ones. You know all the household
recesses, the dairies and pantries and store-
rooms; but you cannot know how Mrs.
Hollingford toiled amongst them, filling them with
her industry one day that they might be
emptied the next; hardening her delicate hands
with labour to the end that justice might be
done, that some who had lost might gain, that
a portion of her husband's heavy debts might
be paid, and a portion of the curse of the
impoverished lifted from his guilty shoulders.

No luxury was ever permitted in that household.
Old gowns were worn and mended till
they could be worn and mended no longer.
The girls were of an age to go abroad to school,
but they must be contented with such education
as they could pick up at home, so long as
one poor creature suffered straits through their
father's fault. The only indulgence allowed was
almsgiving. Mopsie might divide her dinner
with a hungry child, or Jane bestow her new
petticoat on an aged woman; but they must,
in consequence, deny themselves and suffer
inconvenience till such time as it came to be
again their turn to have their absolute wants
relieved.

I did, indeed, feel like a drone in a hive when,
on leaving my room in the mornings, I met
Mrs. Hollingford coming from her work in the
dairy, John Hollingford arriving from his early
visit to a distant part of the farm, Jane from
her sewing closet where she made and mended
the linen of the household, and Mopsie from
the kitchen with a piled dish of breakfast-cakes,
showing what her morning task had been. I
could not eat for envy. Why could I not be
of use to somebody? I gave Mopsie some gay
ribbons, which were returned to me by her
mother. Nothing might she wear but her
plain black frock and white frill. I gave Jane
a book of poems with woodcuts, and that was
accepted with rapture. This encouraged me.
I picked up two little children on the road, and
to one I gave a bright silk girdle for a skipping-
rope, and to the other a doll dressed from the
materials of a fine gauze hat, which I picked to
pieces for the purpose. I was not going to be
a peony flaunting among thrifty modest vetches.
At first I was sorry for the destruction of my
pretty things, but soon I grew to admire the
demureness of my grey gown and little black
apron. I learned to make pies and cakes, to
sweep a room and set it to rights, to wash and
get up linen and laces, to churn, to make
butter. But, as many hands were engaged in
these matters, I was often thrown out of
employment. I made music for my friends in the
evenings, and, as they liked it, this was
something; but it was not enough. A new spirit
had entered into me. I felt my old self lost in
the admiration which I had conceived for the
new friends who had accepted me amongst
them.

By-and-by I found out a little niche of
usefulness for myself. Jane and Mopsie
attended the village school. One day I went
to the town to buy some trifle and call for the
girls. It was past the hour for breaking up,
and I found Mopsie romping with some rude-
looking girls on the green, while Jane, detained
for some fault, sat alone in the schoolroom,
perched on a bench, her arms folded and her
eyes gloomily fixed on the wall. When I
entered she blushed crimson. She was a proud
girl, and I knew she was hurt at my seeing her
disgrace. I coaxed her to speak out her
trouble.

"I could teach the whole school," she said,
fiercely—"master, mistress, and all—and yet
I am kept sitting over a, b, c, like a baby. I
get so sick of it that sometimes I answer wrong
by way of novelty. Then I have to hold out
my hand for the rod. To-day I drew Portia
and Shylock on my slate, and forgot to finish
my sum; therefore I am disgraced!"

I seized the happy moment and offered
myself to the girls as a governess. Mopsie stopped
on the road and hugged me in delight. Jane
squeezed my hand and was silent during the
rest of the walk, except when she said,

"Mother will never consent. I am too
proud, and she wants me to be humbled. She
thinks it is good for me to go to the village
school."

That night, however, I laid my plan before
Mrs. Hollingford, and, after some trouble, I
attained my point.

We chose for our schoolroom an unoccupied
chamber at the end of a long passage up-stairs.
It was furnished with a deal table and chairs,