dinner, and frighten mamma, I'll forgive you. Come along, we will both go in and set the matter right.'

There

They went through the verandah into a pretty room on the ground floor, not too spacious in size to look bare with the moderate amount of furniture it contained. was no carpet on the floor, which was formed of various coloured woods arranged symmetrically; the centre of the room was left empty, a basket full of flowers stood in the window, and at one end of the room there was an oval table in front of a sofa, two armchairs, one on either side of it, and a few light cane chairs, placed with greater attention to form than to elegance. The room looked un-English, chiefly from its want of furniture, but there was no doubt as to the nation to which its occupants belonged, for not only the medley of books and work on the table betrayed it, but the appearance of the inmates themselves.

'You are here at last, Frank; is not the train late?' said the elder of the two ladies,

rising from the sofa on which she had been lying. She was a tall, graceful-looking

woman, with refined but rather unexpressive features, and small thin hands that looked uselessly delicate.

Frank Stanley walked across the room, now and then making a step on tiptoe to prevent the creaking of his boots, and took the armchair next the sofa.

'No, it was not late. I found Dick there waiting for me. It seems he got into trouble this afternoon, and he came down to tell me about it.'

'He is very troublesome.'

'He promises amendment, and I should like to trust his promise. If it goes on, he must be sent to school.'

The last few words sounded rather as if uttered as a threat to his sick wife than to the boy; he drew in his breath as if for an inaudible whistle, and walked towards the window.

'I have seen Harry Newton to-day, and he talks of coming over here for a little; he

has been in Switzerland, with some friends who are going straight home, but he has no fancy for knocking about London in this hot weather. I hope he will not be telling Dick no end of his wild adventures.'

He stood for a moment or two at the window, but his remark elicited no reply. Mrs. Stanley was thinking of Dick and the possible influence, perhaps danger, of such a companion; her sister Nesta felt that the news were really intended for her, though not addressed to her, and she was conscious of a look of very keen scrutiny directed to her while they were uttered; but not a feature changed its expression in that

curiously expressive face.

'Come Dick, boy,' said Mr. Stanley at last, 'you may go with me to Mässinger's, but we must have no more wild men's raids, or you won't get off so easily.' He walked out through the open window, and joined the child, who was standing there switching off the heads of some of Arnold the gardener's choicest flowers.

D

Nesta did not raise her head till Mr. Stanley was gone; perhaps an attentive observer might have remarked that she bent over her work a little more earnestly, and that her deft fingers plied the needle a little more vigorously. There was a strange mixture in her, apparent even to ordinary observers, of great gentleness and great firmness. Her soft voice had in it a tone of decision that curiously blended with its sweetness, and the strong outline of chin and slight compression of lip unmistakeably evidenced strength of character. She looked up as soon as Mr. Stanley had left the room, and began folding up her work. Then she went and sat beside her sister on the sofa.

'Do you think Frank means to send the boy to school? began Mrs. Stanley. How flushed you are!'

'I have been bending over my work,' said Nesta; the thread got into knots.'

'Is it right again now?'

'I have put it by for another time-it was all entangled. Don't think of Dick,' she

added in quite another tone, 'you know Frank never forgets to consult your wishes in everything.'

She was right; Frank did not. His wife's wish was the law of the house. Meanwhile Mr. Stanley and his little son walked up the valley towards the mill. Dick had quite recovered himself by this time, and while Mr. Stanley walked, Dick maintained a brisk trot by his side, the little knickerbockered legs keeping pace with the long ones of his father. But when they reached the mill, they found their walk fruitless, for Müller Mässinger and his whole family had already started off to the Kirchweih in the neighbouring village of Hochstädten. The only person left on the premises was Rosa Rudolf, the pretty field-girl, who fulfilled the manifold duties in the Mässinger establishment of cow-girl, field-labourer, and domestic servant, and whose lot in life was far from enviable. The red rims round her eyes to-night looked very much like traces of the tears that had been shed when