Nesta Fairfax had comforted her, but had not entirely satisfied her perplexed little heart, and the busy brain was still trying to solve the problem.

Betty was not the only visitor to the church that day.

Douglas disappeared after tea, and after nearly two hours' absence returned, hot, tired, and very cross.

At last he confided to Molly that he had been to play the organ.

'And I'm awfully afraid I've broken the horrid old thing, and I don't like that Dick Green! He took my sixpence and ran off, and I worked the handle up and down for hours; he told me the music would come in about a quarter of an hour. It never did, but the organ gave great gasps and groans; you never heard such a noise, just like Mr. Giles when he goes to sleep after tea! It's awfully hard work pulling the handle up and down; I hope I haven't broke it. I think it wants some one to play on the front of it, but the front part is locked up. But I've had a kind of adventure. When I came out there was a strange gentleman looking at one of the graves in the church, so I went up to see what he was looking at, and it was the stone image of a little girl, and there were some pink roses in her hands.'

Betty edged up close to her brother as he got thus far, and asked eagerly, 'What did he say about the roses?'

'He looked at me with an awful frown, and I folded my arms and frowned back, like this!'

And Douglas rumpled his fair brow into many creases, and looked so ferocious that Molly was quite awed, though disrespectful Betty laughed aloud.

'"What are you doing here?" he said. "Did you put these roses here?"

'"No," I said; "oughtn't they to be there? I'll take them away." And then he frowned worse than ever, and said, "Don't you dare to lay a finger on them!" and then he muttered something about the church being always full of children now. But I didn't listen to him much; I was busy looking at the little girl, and thinking, and then I made up a beautiful story on the spot; it's something like some of the fairy stories we read in our big books. I'll tell it to you in a minute. I said to him that I thought I could tell him where the roses came from, and he said "Where?" and then I said to him that the little girl was a sleeping beauty waiting for a prince to come along and kiss her and wake her up; but he hadn't come yet, so a fairy was watching her till he came; and every moonlight night she would bring some flowers in, and creep inside them and sleep with her, to keep all the goblins off, and she would sing her songs in the night, and tell her stories, and comfort her——'

'But,' interrupted Molly, 'if she was asleep, how could she hear the fairy?'

'You're too sharp! Perhaps you'll wait. I was just going to say that in the night she was able to open her eyes, only she couldn't get up. I had just got as far as that, when the gentleman said "Pshaw!" and then he told me to run off, and not come into the church again to tomfool—that's what he said. He was a kind of dark, grim-looking ogre, and I'll—well, I shall have more to do with him yet!'

This awful threat was accompanied with a very significant shake of the flaxen head, but Betty cried out hotly,—

'You don't know anything about it! He's the father of that little girl, and he goes to her grave to say his prayers and cry. I know more about him than you do, so there!'

'What do you know?'

But Betty walked off, hugging Prince under her arm, and calling out as she went, with a spice of superiority in her tone, 'Prince and I know all about him, and her, and the roses; that's our secret.'



CHAPTER VII

Haymaking

It was only a few days after this that nurse took all the children to tea at an old farmhouse about two miles off. They rode part of the way in a farm waggon, and were all in the best of spirits, for it was haymaking time,—a time of entrancing joy to all children, and to the little Stuarts a new and delightful experience. They had tea out in one of the fields under a shady elm, and were just separating after it was over to have one more romp in the hay, when, to Betty's intense surprise, who should come across the field but Nesta Fairfax! She evidently knew Mrs. Crump, the farmer's wife, well, for she sat down and began chatting away about all her family, and then she caught sight of Betty.

'Why, it's my little friend!' she said, stooping down and kissing her; 'and are these your brothers and sisters?'

Betty got crimson with delight, and introduced one after the other with great importance, and Nesta won all their hearts at once by joining them in their frolic. Her laugh was as gay as theirs, and she could run as fast as any of them.

'You're rather a nice grown-up person,' said Douglas approvingly, as at last she took her leave; 'you aren't so dull and stupid as grown-up people generally are! Will you come and see us one day at our farm? I'll take you to see the sweetest white mice in the stable that Sam keeps, and there's heaps of easy trees to climb in the orchard, if you like climbing!'

'And I'll show you a baby calf only two days old,' put in Molly, 'and three black and white kittens in a loft, with a lot of apples one end. We've jolly things at our farm, if you'll only come.'

'And a see-saw and a swing,' added the twins.

'And what will Betty show me?' asked Nesta, amused.

'I think I'll show you the flowers, and the forget-me-nots and watercress in the brook,' said Betty meditatively.

'Then I really must come, with such an enchanting programme before me,' said Nesta; and she kissed them all round, told nurse she envied her her little family, cracked some jokes with old Crump and his wife, and departed, leaving behind her a breezy brightness and cheeriness that she brought with her wherever she came.

'A pleasant young lady,' said nurse; 'who is she, Mrs. Crump?'

'Ah, well,' said Mrs. Crump, shaking her head solemnly; 'there's a sad story attached to the family. My niece, what the master and I have brought up like one of our own children, has got the sitivation as maid to Mrs. Fairfax, and she knows all the ins and outs of their trouble as no one else do. You see, this is how it is! They were a Lunnon family, and come down here first for change of air. They took lodgings in Mrs. Twist's farm; there were Mrs. Fairfax and the two young ladies, and a dashing young gentleman, the son, who came down for a day or two at a time, but he never stayed long. Mrs. Fairfax were proud as proud could be, and very cold and stern-like except to her son, so Jane says, and him she couldn't do enough for; her heart was just bound up in him! Jane went back with them to Lunnon, but she says the way the young gentleman went on were enough to break any mother's heart. He was fast going to the bad; and yet his mother, though she would scold and fume at times, never seemed to see it, and paid his debts, and let him have his fling. Miss Nesta were engaged to be married, and Jane says her lover did all he could to stand by her brother and keep him straight; but it weren't no good whatever. And about two year ago the end came. Mr. Arthur had some trouble over a gaming-table; that was the beginning; then he went and signed a bank cheque that wasn't his—I believe as how it is called forging, and the gentleman whose cheque it was had him up in court; he wouldn't hush it up, and it was the talk of all Lunnon, so Jane tells me. His mother would have paid up, though it would have ruined her; but she weren't allowed, and he were sent to prison across the seas for seventeen years. Jane says Mrs. Fairfax seemed turned to stone; she shut up the Lunnon house, and went abroad to some foreign place with a long name, I forgets it now; and then she comes back and takes Holly Grange, which is as nice an old house as ever you see, and belonged to a Colonel Sparks, who died only a twelvemonth ago, and is about a mile from here, over against that wood you see yonder. But I'm tiring of you with this long tale.'

'I like to hear it,' said nurse; and so did Betty, though a good deal of it was incomprehensible to her. She sat with Prince in her arms on the grass close by, and her quick little ears were listening to every word.

'Well,' said Mrs. Crump, with a sigh, 'there ain't much more to tell. Jane says Mrs. Fairfax shuts herself up and won't see a single visitor; Miss Grace, the eldest daughter, who was never very strong, has become a confirmed invalid, with very crotchety and fidgety ways, and makes every one miserable who comes near her. Miss Nesta is the only one that keeps bright; and Jane says her temper is that sweet, she bears with all her sister's crossness and unreasonableness, and her mother's icy coldness, like an angel. She have had her troubles, too, poor thing! Jane tells me that it was Mrs. Fairfax made her break off her engagement with her lover; he were some relative of the gentleman that lost the cheque, and she wouldn't have the engagement go on on no account. Jane says her lover had a talk with Mrs. Fairfax, and he were rather a high and mighty gentleman, and he left the room as white as death, and declared he would never set foot in the house again. Jane thinks Mrs. Fairfax was beside herself at the time, and must have insulted him fearful. Anyhow, it all came to an end. It's a world of trouble, Mrs. Duff. But I feel very sorry for Miss Nesta. The other ladies hardly ever leave the house or grounds, and they would like to keep Miss Nesta in as well; but she comes across to me and has a chat, and she reads a chapter and has prayers with grandfather. She's a very good young lady, and no one would think, to look at her, what she have come through.'

'Has she come through tribulation?' asked Betty, looking up suddenly.

'Well, I never did! To think of that child a-taking it all in!' ejaculated Mrs. Crump. 'What do you know about tribulation, little missy?'

'It means trouble or distress, I know;' and Betty's face was very wistful as she spoke.

'Run along and play with the others,' said nurse quickly, 'and don't worry your head over other people's troubles. There is plenty of it in the world, but your time hasn't come for it yet.'

'I wish it would come,' said Betty softly, 'and then I could put myself in that text.'

But only Prince heard the whispered words, and he wagged his tail in sympathy.

It was that night that Betty added another clause to her evening prayers. She generally said them aloud at nurse's knee, but it was not the first time that she had said, 'I want to whisper quite a secret to God'; and nurse always let her have her way.

'She is a queer little thing,' she told her brother; 'sometimes naughtier and more contrary than all the rest put together, and sometimes so angel-like that I wonder if she won't have an early death. But there's no knowing how to take her!'

Betty's secret was this,—

'And please, God, forgive Prince his sins and take him to heaven when he dies, and let me come through great tribulation, so that I may be like your people in heaven.'

When haymaking commenced at Brook Farm the children's delight knew no bounds. Every moment of the day they were out in the fields; and as the great cart-loads of hay were driven off, they felt proud and pleased with having helped in the work. Prince enjoyed it as much as any one; but he never left his little mistress's side for long. One evening, as the tired haymakers were resting, after having placed the last load on the wagon, Betty, dancing by the cart, was inspired to ascend the ladder which had been left against it.

'Come on,' she shouted to Douglas and Molly, 'and we'll have a ride home.'

Up they went, unnoticed by any, and danced up and down with delight when they reached the top. Then nurse discovered them, and in her fright and anxiety at their risky position she rushed towards them and screamed aloud. The horses, startled, swerved hastily aside, and Douglas, dangerously near the edge, over-balanced himself, and fell with a terrible thud to the ground. It was the work of a moment to seize him and drag him from the wheels, which mercifully did not touch him; but he was carried into the house stunned and insensible, and Molly and Betty, with scared, white faces, were taken down and sent indoors.

'It's your fault,' whispered Molly to the frightened Betty; 'you made us come up, and now Douglas will die! I think he's dead already; you'll be a murderer, and you'll be sent to prison and hung!'

And Betty quite believed this assertion, and crept up to the passage outside Douglas's bedroom trembling with excitement and fright. She crouched down in a corner, and Prince came up, put his two paws on her shoulder, and licked her face with a little wistful whine. It was a long time before nurse came out of the room, and then she wasted very few words on the little culprit.

'Go to bed, you naughty child, and tell Miss Molly to go too. You are never safe from mischief, and it's a mercy your brother hasn't been killed.'

'Will he get better, nurse?'

But nurse made no reply, and both little girls were long before they got to sleep that night, so fearful were their conjectures as to the fate of their brother.

Douglas was only stunned for the time, and very much bruised and shaken. Nurse kept him in bed for two or three days, and the two little girls were unremitting in their care and attention. He accepted their services with much complacency, and enjoyed his important and interesting position.

'What would you two girls have done if I had died?' he asked. 'Who would have been your leader then?'

'You're not my leader,' said Betty promptly. 'No one is my leader. I lead myself.'

'I don't know what I should have done,' said Molly pensively. 'I should have had to go about with Betty then. You see, I should have her, and the twins have themselves. I don't think Bobby and Billy would miss any of us much if we were to die. We should be equal if you died, Douglas—two and two, but I'm glad you're going to get better.'

'You wouldn't have gone about with me, Molly,' said Betty, with a decisive shake of her head, as she stooped to caress Prince at her feet, 'because you would have been one too many. We are two and two without you. I don't want any one with me but Prince. You would have to be the odd one if Douglas died—like I used to be.'

'Prince is only a dog,' said Molly, with a little curl of her lip. 'I wouldn't make two with a dog!'

Betty's eyes sparkled dangerously.

'Prince is ever so much nicer than you are—much nicer, and you're jealous because he likes me and not you. He's my very own, and I love him, and he loves me; and I love him better than all the people in the world put together, so there!'

'You needn't get in a temper. He's a silly, stupid kind of a dog, and Mr. Giles said yesterday if he caught him chasing his sheep round the field, he would give him a good beating; and I hope he will, for he nearly chased the sheep yesterday.'

'When you two have done fighting I should like to speak. My head aches. I think I should like some of the jelly nurse made for me. It will make it better.'

The little girls' rising wrath subsided. Both rushed to fulfil Douglas's desire,—for had not nurse left them in charge, and had she not also warned them against exciting him by loud talking and noise?

'I'm glad you will get better,' said Betty presently. 'I saw Miss Fairfax in church yesterday, and she asked me how you were.'

'What were you doing in church?' demanded Douglas. 'It wasn't Sunday.'

'Prince and I go to church very often,' said Betty, putting on a prim little air. 'We have several businesses there; but we don't tell every one what we do.'

'Do you play the organ?' asked Douglas, a little eagerly.

'No, but we hear it played, and we sing, and we—well, we do lots of other things.'

'I shall come with you next time you go,' and Douglas's tone was firm.

'No,' said Betty; 'you'll be one too many. I don't want Molly, and I don't want you. I've got Prince, and I don't want no one else.'

It was thus she aired her triumphs daily; and it was by such speeches that she revealed how much she had felt and suffered in times past by being so constantly left out in the cold. And Prince was daily becoming more and more companionable. Not one doubt did Betty ever entertain as to his not understanding or caring for her long confidences. He slept in a little basket at the foot of her bed. She was wakened by his wet kisses in the morning, and he liked nothing better than snuggling into bed with her. Tucking his little black nose under her soft chin, he would place a paw on each of her shoulders, and settle off into a reposeful sleep; whilst Betty would lie perfectly still, gazing at him with loving eyes, and every now and then giving him a gentle squeeze and murmuring, 'You're my very own, my darling, and I love you.'



CHAPTER VIII

God's Patchwork

'Good-morning to you, little maid.'

Betty and Prince had been straying through the lanes, and had suddenly come upon the old sexton, who was leaning over his cottage gate smoking a short clay pipe.

Betty's face dimpled with smiles.

'May I come in and see your little house?' she asked. 'Prince and I want something to do. Douglas and Molly are lying in a hammock, and making up stories; and the twins are no company.'

'Come in, come in, my dear, and welcome, but 'tis a lonesome kind o' home with only me in it; 'twas very different once on a time.'

He led the way up a narrow path through rows of cabbages and sweet peas, and ushered her into a tiny kitchen, clean, but rather untidy. Betty looked round with a child's admiring eyes. There were great shells on the mantelpiece, a stuffed owl on a sideboard, and lots of other quaint curiosities on some shelves in a recess.

Then she climbed into a big rocking-chair.

'This is lovely,' she said; 'it's almost as good as a rocking-horse, if you go very fast.'

The old man stood looking at her for a minute; then seated himself on the low window-seat, and went on smoking. When Betty had swung herself violently to and fro for some minutes, she asked,—

'Have you been busy digging graves to-day?'

'No; 'tis a fortnight since I had one: the season has bin rare and healthy.'

'Then what have you been doing?' demanded the child.

'Oh, I don't let the time slip by; there are a many things I turn my hand to. I digs my taters up, and gardens a bit first thing in the morning, and I cleans up in my churchyard, and then I cooks a bit o' dinner, and has a bit o' gossip with my neighbours. I'm a sociable sort o' chap, though I'm so lonesome. And I has a bit o' reading on occasions. Are you a-thinkin' any more o' that 'ere tex' that we was a-argufying on t'other arter-noon?'

Betty nodded.

'I'm always thinking of it,' she said, stopping the motion of the chair, and looking up at him with grave, earnest eyes.

'Ah, well, so am I! I've had a good bit o' readin', too, 'tis a most important thing, the Bible be; and I've been giving a good bit o' my mind to it latterly. 'Twas your calm tone of saying I must be ready to die, if I'd bin through tribbylation, started me off. I couldn't quite make out about the washing, and so I've a looked it up. And I've found out from the old Book that I'm as black a sinner as ever lived on this 'ere blessed earth.'

'How dreadful!' Betty said in an awed, shocked tone; 'and you told me you were so good! I never knew grown-up people were wicked; I thought it was only children. What made you find it out?'

'Well, 'twas readin' what we ought to live like, first knocked me down. I got a-lookin' through them there epistlies, and got awful cast down. And then I thinks to mysel', p'raps arter all Paul and such like were too severe, so I went to the gospels, for I've always heerd the gospels tell of love, and not judgment, but I wasn't comforted by them, not a bit,—not even when I turned up the sheep chapter that I used for to learn as a little 'un. It says there, "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me." And I says to myself, "Reuben! you've never a listened to His voice; you've a gone your own way all your life through, and you ain't a follered Him one day in all the sixty-and-eight years you've a bin on this 'ere blessed earth!" Well, I began to think I'd better say that prayer my dear old missis a told me, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." And then 'twas last Toosday night about seven o'clock I got the answer.'

The old man paused, took his pipe out of his mouth, and looked up at the blackened rafters across his little kitchen with a quivering smile about his lips; whilst Betty, with knitted brows, tried hard to follow him in what he was saying.

'I was a-turnin' over the leaves of the old Book,' he continued, 'when I come to a tex' which stared me full in the face, and round it was pencilled a thick black line, which was the doin' of my missis. I'll read it for you, little maid.'

He rose, and took from the shelf a large family Bible. Placing it on the table, he turned over its leaves with a trembling hand; and then his voice rang out with a solemn triumph in it, '"Come, now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." My knees began to tremble, for I says to myself, "Reuben, 'tis the Lord's voice to thee." And I drops down on the floor, just where you're a-sittin', missy, and I says, "Amen, so be it, Lord." I gets up with a washed soul—washed in the blood of the Lamb.'

There was silence; the old man's attitude, his upward gaze, his solemn emphasis, awed and puzzled Betty.

'And now you're in the text!' she said at last, somewhat wistfully; as she drew Prince to her, and lifted him into her lap.

'I shall be one o' these days, for certain sure,' was old Reuben's reply; 'but 'tis the Lord that will put me there; 'tis His washing that has done it.'

'That's what Miss Fairfax said; she said it wasn't tribulation would bring us to heaven. She made me sing,—

"There was no other good enough To pay the price of sin; He only could unlock the gate Of heaven and let us in."

But I'm quite sure God won't mean me to stand in the middle of those people round the throne, if I haven't been through tribulation; I'm quite sure He won't! I shall find myself in a mistake if I try to creep in among them; and, oh! I want to be there, I want to be there!'

Tears were welling up, and Prince wondered why he was clutched hold of so convulsively by his little mistress. Reuben looked at her, rubbed his head a little doubtfully, and then straightened himself up with a sudden resolve.

'Look here, little maid; you just a foller me: I'm a-goin' to the church.'

Up Betty sprang, her tears were brushed away; and she and Prince danced along by the side of the old man, her doubts and fears dispersing for the time.

But Reuben was very silent. He led her into the cool, dark church and up the side aisle to the tomb of little Violet Russell. There he stopped, and directed the child's gaze above it to the stained-glass window.

'Can you read the tex', little maid?'

'Yes,' said Betty brightly; 'why, even Bobby and Billy know that: "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not."'

'And that's what the Lord says,' the old man went on; 'did He say the children were to have tribbylation afore they comed to Him? Why, for sure not! And if you, little missy, go straight into His arms when you gets to heaven, you'll be safe enough, and He'll know where to put you.'

Betty's little face beamed all over.

'And He will love me, even if I haven't been through tribulation?'

'Why, for sure He will.'

Betty gave a happy little sigh.

'I tell you what, now,' Reuben added; 'if you're a-wantin' to have tribbylation made clear to you, I'll take you down to see old Jenny—praychin' Jenny, she used to be called—for she used to hold forth in chapel bettern than a parson. And she's bin bedridden these twelve year; but she can learn anybody about the Bible; she knows tex's by thousands; there hain't no one can puzzle Jenny over the Bible.'

'Is she very ill?' asked Betty.

'She's just bedridden with rheumatics, that's all; but 'tis quite enough; and I was calkilatin' only t'other day that I'll have to be diggin' her grave afore Christmas.'

'Will you take me to see her now?'

'For sure I will.'

Out of the cool church they went, and along the hot, dusty road, till they reached a low thatched cottage by the wayside. Reuben lifted the latch of the door, and walked right in.

There was a big screen just inside the door, and a voice asked at once,—

'Who be there?'

''Tis only Reuben and a little lass that wants to see you.' And Betty was led round the screen to a big four-post bed with spotlessly clean hangings and a wonderful patch-work quilt. Lying back on the pillows was one of the sweetest old women that Betty had ever seen. A close frilled night-cap surrounded a cheery, withered face—a face that looked as if nothing would break the placid smile upon it, nothing would dim the joy and peace shining through the faded blue eyes.

Betty held out her little hand.

'How do you do?' she said; 'this old man has brought me to see you. He said you would tell me about tribulation.'

'Bless your dear little heart! Lift her up on the foot of the bed, Reuben. Why, what a bonny little maid! and who may she be?'

'She be lodgin' at Farmer Giles's; and be troubled in her mind concarning tribbylation.'

The old woman reached over, and laid a wrinkled hand on the soft, childish one.

'Then tell old Jenny, dearie, what it is.'

Betty was quite ready to do so; and poured forth such a long, incoherent story that it was very difficult to understand her. Jenny did not quite take in her perplexity.

'Ay, dearie, most of us has tribbylation in some form or t'other; I often think, as I lie lookin' at my patchwork quilt, that it be just a pictur' of our life—a little bit o' brightness and then a patch of dark; but the dark is jined to the bright, and one never knows just what the next patch will be. But the One who makes it knows—He's a-workin' in the pattern, and the black dark bits only serve to show up the bright that's a-comin'.'

'Ay,' said Reuben, sinking into a chair; 'I mind plenty o' black days in my life; but I've had a many bright 'uns too—ay, and one white 'un, and that were last Toosday! It be a fine patch o' white in my quilt, Jenny!'

'Tribbylation!' said the old woman musingly; 'I mind o' several verses on it: "In the world ye shall have tribbylation; but be of good cheer: I have overcome the world." "We must through much tribbylation enter into the Kingdom of God." "We glory in tribbylation also, knowing that tribbylation worketh patience." "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribbylation?" Ah, tribbylation is tryin' to the flesh, but 'tis for the improvin' of the soul!'

'And does everybody have it except children?' asked Betty with a solemn face.

'I think as how most folks have it in one form or t'other; the saints get it surely, for "whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth.'"

'What does "chasteneth" mean?'

'Punish, I take it, dearie, your father and mother punishes you at times, don't they?'

'No, never; only nurse.'

'Ah, well; and doesn't she desire your good? She don't do it just to spite you.'

'I s'pose it's for my good,' said Betty doubtfully.

'Tribbylation will allays be a mystery,' went on the old woman, speaking more to Reuben than the child. 'We must bow our heads and take it, whether we like it or no; and it's wonderful strange how differently folks take it! Seems to me, as the Bible puts it, it's just a fire, and whiles some like wax gets melted and soft by it, t'others are like the clay, they gets hard and unbendable. I've known lots o' both those sorts in my time; 'tis only by keeping close to the Hand that smites that you feels the comfort and healing that goes along with it. If you keeps a distance off, and lets the devil come a-sympathisin' and a-groanin' with you, then it's all bitterness through and through.'

'Ay,' said Reuben, 'me and the devil have oft sat down together over my troubles; and he do know how to make 'em werry black!'

Betty's round eyes and puzzled gaze at this assertion made Reuben adopt another tone.

'But here's this little lass, Jenny, a-wantin' to have tribbylation, for fear she shouldn't be one o' the Lord's people after all.'

The old woman looked across at the child, and then she nodded brightly at her.

'And you shall have it, dearie; the Lord will send it surely; and when you're in the midst o't, you mind these words o' the Lord's, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." It's in tribbylation our faith fails; we can't see in the dark, and we mistrust our Guide.'

Betty's face lit up at these words, and she brushed away some glittering drops from her long lashes.

'You think I shall really have it?' she questioned eagerly.

'Surely you will in some form or t'other, and p'raps before you're a growed-up woman. I sometimes think little folks' troubles are as big as the older folks.'

Betty did not hear much more of the conversation that followed. Old Jenny had done more to comfort and satisfy her than any one else, and she left the cottage with Reuben, saying,—

'I like Jenny very much, and so does Prince; we will come and see her again.'



CHAPTER IX

Betty's Discovery

Molly and Douglas were up in an apple tree in the orchard late one afternoon, when Betty and Prince came rushing by.

'Hullo, where are you going?' shouted Douglas.

Betty came to a standstill, and Prince likewise, the latter putting his tongue out and looking up inquiringly, as he panted for breath.

Betty cut a caper. 'I'm going to spend the day with Miss Fairfax to-morrow; me and Prince, hurray!'

And Prince danced round his little mistress's legs with delighted barks.

'I don't believe it,' said Molly, looking down through the leafy branches; 'didn't she ask us too?'

'No, only me; she said she'd ask you another day.'

'Where did you see Miss Fairfax?'

'In church; she has been making the loveliest music, and Prince and I have been singing.'

'Prince singing!' said Douglas contemptuously; 'I should like to hear him!'

'He does,' Betty said eagerly; 'he really does. He kind of whines in his throat and up his nose, and sometimes he puts up his head, opens his mouth wide, and gives a lovely howl! And he looks awfully pleased when he's done it; he thinks he sings very nicely. Where's nurse?'

'She's washing Bobby; he tumbled right into the pig-stye, and came out a disgusting objec'!'

'Is she rather cross?'

'Of course she is; she won't let you go to Miss Fairfax if you ask her now.'

'Then I'll wait till tea.'

Betty threw herself down on the grass, and Prince sat at her feet, thumping his tail on the ground, and watching intently every change that flitted across her face. Now and then he would make a snap at some flies; if Betty spoke to him, his whole body would wriggle with ecstasy; he seemed to live on her smiles and caressing words.

'It will be very dull to spend the day with a grown-up person,' said Douglas presently; 'I'm glad she didn't ask me; I never do care for grown-up persons.'

His lordly air in making this assertion helped to fortify Molly, who was bitterly disappointed in not being included in the invitation.

'I love her!' exclaimed Betty; 'she's the nicest grown-up I've ever seen. She does laugh so, and isn't a bit proper.'

'Well, you'll be sick of it before the day is over, you see if you aren't! Now Molly and I are going to have a lovely day. Would you like to know what we're going to do?'

Molly listened eagerly, for Douglas's plans were always sudden and unexpected.

'We're going off directly after breakfast with our dinner in our basket, and we're going down to the brook. I'm going to build a bridge over it at the widest part!'

Both sisters looked aghast at this audacity.

'What will you build it of?' questioned Betty sceptically.

'Of stones and clay. We shall make the clay down there; and I shall put a few boards in, and make it all smooth with some putty that I saw in the stable.'

'You will fall in the water and get drowned,' said Betty; and then she jumped up and ran off to the house, to escape a pelting shower of small green apples from her irate brother.

Nurse made a few objections at first, when she heard of Betty's invitation; but when she knew that Miss Fairfax was going to call for her little guest, and had promised to bring her safely back again, she gave the required permission; and Betty's sleep that night was full of wonderful dreams about her coming visit.

She woke very early the next morning, and was full of confidences to Prince of all that they were going to do and say. She gave nurse no rest after breakfast until she had dressed her in her best white frock and tan shoes and stockings; then, with her large white Leghorn hat and little white silk gloves, she sat up on a chair in the best front parlour, feeling very important, and making a dainty little picture as she sat there. Prince had a piece of pink ribbon tied round his neck; Mrs. Giles had produced it from her work-basket, and had gained a fervent kiss and hug from the little maiden thereby.

At last Nesta arrived in a low pony carriage, to Betty's intense delight. She wished that Molly and Douglas had waited to see her step in and drive off, but they had run off half an hour before, nurse having packed them a lunch-basket, as desired.

Nesta smiled at the excited child, as she and Prince tumbled themselves into the carriage with a good deal of fuss; but when they were once off, driving through the shady lanes, Betty folded her little hands demurely round Prince in her lap, and upon her face came that dreamy look her friend so loved to see. She did not ask questions, and the drive was a quiet one, until they at length drove through some iron gates round a thick shrubbery, and up to a big white house with green Venetian shutters, and a brilliant show of roses in front. Betty was lifted out, and taken up some low stone steps into a broad old-fashioned hall. It seemed very cool and quiet inside; thick soft rugs lay about the tiled floor, large pots of flowering shrubs stood here and there, and at the farther end was an open door with striped awning outside, and a glimpse of a smooth grassy lawn and bright flower-beds.

Nesta opened a door, and led Betty into a darkened room, full of sweet scents of heliotrope and roses.

'Now I am going to bring you something, so sit down and wait for me.'

Betty's quick eyes were taking in everything; and as for Prince, his nose was as busy as his eyes, and a low growl and a stiffening of his ears soon told his little mistress that he had discovered something objectionable. When Betty crossed the room on tip-toe, she found him in front of a large mirror, and the snarl on his lips was not pleasant to see, as he faced his mock antagonist.

'Oh, Prince, for shame! I must hold you; what would I do if you broke that glass? Now come and look at these beautiful pictures. Look at that lady up there; she has got a little dog in her arms very like you.'

It was a pleasant morning-room, with plenty of pretty ornaments scattered about, and after the farm kitchen it had a great fascination for Betty.

Nesta presently returned with some sponge cakes and a glass of raspberry vinegar, which Betty found most refreshing.

'Do you live here all alone?' she asked.

'No,' said Miss Fairfax, smiling; 'I have my mother and sister here. My mother is not very well to-day, but I will take you to see my sister now. Come along, this way; will Prince be good?'

'Yes, he won't bark at all unless he meets another dog.'

Betty trotted along, following her guide across the hall to another room, where on a couch near the window lay a lady.

'I've brought a little visitor to see you, Grace,' Nesta said in cheery tones. 'This is the little girl I was telling you about the other day.'

'I can't bear children,' was the fretful reply; 'why do you bring her here?'

But nevertheless she put the book down that she was reading, and scanned the child from head to foot. Betty's grave face and earnest scrutiny in return seemed to vex her more.

'How children stare! Do you think me a scarecrow, child? can't you keep your eyes to yourself? What is your name?'

'Betty,' and the little girl drew to her friend's side rather shyly.

'Go and shake hands,' whispered Nesta.

Betty went up to the couch and held out her little hand. The invalid took it, and the fair, flushed little face seemed to attract her.

'This is a perfect baby, Nesta; I thought you meant a much older child. Well, little girl, haven't you a tongue in your head? Have you nothing to say? It's the way of this house: here I lie from morning to night without a soul to speak to, and if I do have a visitor it is half a dozen words, and then off they go! I should like them to lie here and suffer as I do—perhaps they might have a little more feeling for an invalid if they did.'

'Are you going to die?' asked Betty timidly.

'Take her away!' gasped Miss Grace; 'don't bring a child to mock me; and I suppose you will be devoting yourself to her the whole day, and I shall have no one to read the paper to me.'

'No,' said Nesta brightly, 'I am going to let her play in the garden, and then I shall come to you as usual. Come along, Betty; now you and Prince can have a scamper.'

Out into the garden they went; but Betty rubbed her eyes in bewilderment when she got there. Surely she had seen this garden before! Was it in her dreams last night?

She tripped across the velvet lawn, answering Nesta's questions and remarks rather absently, and then suddenly she turned round with a beaming face. 'I've been here before,' she said; 'I had some lilies from over there, and I came through that little door in the wall from the wood. Do you know my lady? She looks like a queen. Does she live with you?'

Nesta looked perfectly bewildered.

'You must be dreaming, Betty. How could you have come here? When did you come?'

Betty told her of her adventure in the wood, and Nesta listened in wonder.

'It must have been my mother, and yet I can hardly understand it. It is unlike her to take any notice of children.' Then she added, 'Do you think you can make yourself happy in the garden, Betty, or would you like to go down the green walk outside the little gate?'

'Will you open the gate and let me see?' said Betty thoughtfully.

Nesta took her to it, and then for a moment they stood silent, looking down the green avenue, with the golden sunshine glinting through the leafy trees, and the tall bracken swaying to and fro in the summer breeze.

'Which do you like best, Betty—the garden or this?'

Betty turned and looked behind her at the lovely flowers and beautifully kept grass and gravel walks, and then she heaved a little sigh as she looked out into the wood.

'My beautiful old lady asked me that question before, and I thought then I liked the garden, but now I like this green walk best,' she said.

'You prefer nature uncultivated, don't you? So do I. But I do not often come out here. This is my mother's favourite spot.'

'Did you say "Nature"?' questioned betty eagerly. 'Do you mean Mother Nature? You said you would show her to me one day.'

'So I did, I have quite forgotten. Well, there she is out there, Betty. Nature is God's beautiful earth: the country, the birds, the rabbits, and the squirrels—everything that He makes and that man leaves alone.'

'I don't understand;' and the child's white brow was creased with puckers. 'I thought she was a woman: Mr. Roper said she was; he said he had learnt many a lesson from her.'

'And so have I,' said Nesta softly. 'Listen, Betty. Sometimes I have gone out of doors tired and worried and sad; I have wandered through the wood, and the sweet sounds and sights I have seen in it have brought me home rested and refreshed. They have spoken to me of God's love, and God's care, and God's perfection. You are too little to understand me, I expect, but you will when you get older. God makes everything beautiful, and He watches over the tiny birds and insects whom no one but Himself ever sees. The tiniest flower is noticed by Him, and all His works in nature lead us to think of Him, and to remember how He loves and cares for us.'

Betty's blue eyes were raised earnestly upwards.

'God does love everything, doesn't He? And He loves Prince just as much as He does you and me.'

Nesta hesitated. 'I think, darling, God has a different love for us to what He has for animals. We have cost the dear Saviour His life; our souls have been redeemed. Animals have no souls, they do not know the difference between right and wrong——'

'But Prince does,' broke in Betty hastily; 'he knows lots of the Bible, for I've told him about it, and I read The Peep of Day to him on Sunday. He likes it; he lies quite still on my lap and folds his paws and listens like anything. And I've told him about Jesus dying for him, and how he must try to be good. And he does try: he wanted to run after some little chickens yesterday, and I called him and told him it was wicked, and he came away from them directly; and I know he wanted to go after them dreadfully, for he was licking his lips and glaring at them!'

This outburst from Betty was too much for Nesta. She looked at her with perplexity, then wisely turned the subject, and after a few minutes' more chat left her, and went back to the house.

Betty wandered out into the wood, and then seating herself on a soft bank surrounded by ferns and foxgloves, she drew Prince to her.

'Come, you little darling, how do you like this? Isn't it lovely to be spending a day in that lovely house, and not have to be shut out with only some lilies to take away? Do you like it, Prince? And do you think we shall see that nice queen, and find out if she sent you in a basket to me? Do you understand about nature, Prince? I wish I did, but it's the earth, I think; you put your mouth down and kiss it. Isn't it nice and soft?'

And then, laying her curly head on the velvet moss, Betty pressed her lips to it, whispering, 'Mother Nature, Mr. Roper sent you his love and a kiss!'

Prince was not content to stay as quiet as this for long, and when a rabbit popped out from a hole close by, he was after it like lightning. Betty tore after him delightedly, and a scamper removed from her busy little mind for the time thoughts that were beginning to trouble her.

When Nesta returned to the garden half an hour after, she found Betty deep in conversation with the old gardener, and Prince was hunting for snails in a thick laurel hedge close by.

'We didn't stay out in the wood very long,' Betty explained; 'we got tired of running after rabbits.'

'You must come in to luncheon now; I want you to come up to my room to wash your face and hands.'

'Will the cross lady be at lunch?' asked Betty, as she trotted up the broad oak stairs a few minutes later.

'Hush, dear; she is ill, remember. I don't think she will lunch with us.'

Nesta took her little visitor through a long passage to a pretty bedroom, and Betty looked about at all the pictures and knick-knacks, asking ceaseless questions, and fingering everything that she could get hold of. Her curls were brushed out, her hands and face washed, and then she was brought down to the large drawing-room.

'This is my little friend, mother,' said Nesta, going in.

A tall figure turned round from the window, and Betty saw her mysterious lady once again. She looked colder and sterner than ever, and put up her gold pince-nez to scan the little new-comer down; but Betty's radiant face, dimpling all over with pleasure as she held up her face for a kiss, brought a softer gleam to the old grey eyes, and, to her daughter's astonishment, Mrs. Fairfax stooped to give the expected kiss.

'It is the little trespasser,' she said. 'I did not know I should see you again so soon.'

Then she turned to Nesta. 'Grace informed me she intended to lunch with us. She is in the dining-room already, so we will wait no longer.'

They walked in silence across to the dining-room, and Betty, awed by the big table, the noiseless butler, and the cold, formal stateliness of the meal, sat up in her big chair, subdued and still.



CHAPTER X

A Little Messenger

Miss Fairfax seemed the most talkative, but her conversation was a perpetual flow of complaints; the food, the weather, and her ailments were her chief topics, and Betty's round eyes of amazement, as she sat opposite, served to irritate her more. At length she gave a little start and scream.

'I am sure there is a dog in the room!' she exclaimed. 'How often I have told you, Jennings' (this to the butler), 'to keep the dogs out of our rooms!'

'It's my dog,' said Betty at once; 'it's only Prince; he always sits under my chair; he's such a dear, he waits as quiet as a mouse.'

'Take him out of the room at once, Jennings; I can't eat another mouthful while he is here. You ought never to have allowed him to come in!'

'Oh, Grace, he won't hurt you!' said Nesta, remonstrating.

Miss Fairfax put her knife and fork together, and leant back in her chair.

'Very well; as my nerves are never considered in the least, it is useless for me to speak; I had better go back to my room. I am continually being urged to join you at meal-times; yet, when I do, I am expected to go through the misery of having a wretched dog crawling round my feet, and setting every nerve in my head quivering and throbbing.'

'Take the dog outside,' said Mrs. Fairfax quietly; then, turning to Betty, who looked very perturbed and flushed, she said, 'Jennings will take care of him, and he shall have some dinner in the kitchen.'

'He won't be beaten, will he? He didn't know it was wrong to follow me'; and Betty's eyes began to fill with tears, as she saw Prince seized by the scruff of his neck, and carried off, in spite of indignant growls and snaps.

'No, he won't be beaten,' she was assured; but after this she had no appetite for her dinner; and when the ladies rose from the table she ran up to Mrs. Fairfax.

'May I have Prince again now? He's so very good. I want him dreadfully.'

'Yes, he shall be brought to you. What are you going to do with the child, Nesta?'

'I will take her out into the garden, mother. But I hear old Mrs. Parr has come up for some linseed meal I promised her. Her husband is very ill again with bronchitis. I shall not be gone long.'

'Then Betty shall come upstairs with me.'

Again Nesta wondered, but wisely said nothing.

Prince came scampering across the hall, and Betty, now completely happy, took hold of Mrs. Fairfax's hand, and went upstairs into a lovely little boudoir, where she sat down in a low cushioned seat by the window, and chattered away to her heart's content.

'Did you send Prince to me? You did, didn't you? I knew it was you! He is such a darling, and it makes me into a couple—which I've never been before.'

Mrs. Fairfax smiled; she seemed to lose some of her stiffness when with Betty alone.

'And is he as much a companion as another brother or sister might be?'

'I think he's much nicer. I wouldn't have any one instead of him for all the world.'

'What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you?'

'Lots and lots of things. I go to church to hear Miss Fairfax play the organ; and I take flowers to dead Violet; and I have got into lots of scrapes; but I don't think I'm quite as naughty here as I used to be in London. At least, we can't quite make it out. Douglas was saying the other day, nurse lets him climb any trees here; but if he tried to climb a lamp-post, or even one of the trees in the parks, in London, he was always being whipped or put into cells for it! And in the country we can go out without gloves, and run races along the roads, and swing on gates, and we never get punished at all. We don't want to go back to London; it's so dreadfully hard to be good there.'

'But don't you want to see your father and mother again?'

'Yes, I s'pose so; but we don't see them very much in London. I'd like to stay in the country for ever and ever, and so would Prince.' After a pause she went on, 'You see, there's a good deal more going on in the country than in London. We know a lot more people, and there's always something fresh happening. Now, in London every day is the same, and we have only the nursery to play in, we get so tired of it. At the farm where we live we're always having nice surprises; lots of little calves are born quite suddenly, or little horses, and we don't know anything about it till we go and see them in the morning. Yesterday there were six little black pigs, such little beauties! And then we have so many more people to talk to. There's Farmer and Mrs. Giles, and Sam, and all the carters, and the old man who digs the graves, and old Jenny, and you, and Miss Fairfax, and Mr. Russell, but I've only seen him once.'

Betty paused for breath.

'And what do you find to talk about to so many people?'

'I've been talking rather grave talks with some of them,' Betty said reflectively, 'about tribulation.'

Mrs. Fairfax raised her eyebrows.

'That is very grave talk indeed for such a mite as you. What do you know about it?'

'I know that everybody has got it except me, and I want to have it; and old Jenny said I'd be sure to come to it soon. She's had it, and Reuben has, and Mr. Russell, and nurse, and Miss Fairfax has. Has the cross lady downstairs had it, and have you?'

Mrs. Fairfax's lips quivered a little as she turned away her head. The soft, childish fingers were probing the wound, and she shrank from their touch.

Betty went on dreamily, 'I often wonder what it's like, and whether you feel like Christian did in the dark valley; but he got through it all right at last! I should like to come right through it into the middle of the text, and Jenny says I shall some day!'

There was glad triumph in her tone.

'What text?' asked Mrs. Fairfax, looking out of the window, and away to the green woods in the distance.

Betty repeated once more the familiar words,—

'"These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." How glad they must be to have had it! don't you think so?'

And then the stately Mrs. Fairfax sat down, and took Betty upon her knee; drawing her close to her, till she had the little dark curly head resting against her shoulder, she bent her head to hers, and said, almost passionately,—

'God grant you will never know such trouble as mine, little one—trouble that turns your heart to stone, and blots all heaven from your sight!'

Betty put her little arms round her neck.

'Old Jenny said I should have it,' she repeated, 'and she told me when I was in the middle of it to remember, "Be thou faithful unto death"—I forget the other part.'

There was silence for some moments; then Mrs. Fairfax kissed the upturned face.

'Now run downstairs, little woman, and find Nesta. I will say good-bye now, for I shall not see you again.'

Betty obeyed instantly, and when she had gone, for the first time for many a long month, the sorrowful woman knelt in prayer. 'God help me!' she cried; 'I have been an unfaithful servant, and have refused to turn to Thee for comfort.'

The rest of the afternoon was as delightful as the morning to Betty. She visited the stables and poultry yard; she picked strawberries, and ate them whilst she picked; she gathered a large nosegay of flowers to take home to nurse; and then, at four o'clock, she came in to a delicious little tea in the cool, shady drawing-room. Miss Fairfax was lying on the sofa there, but she seemed to like to hear the child talk, and even condescended to allow Prince to come inside to receive a lump of sugar on his nose, whilst he sat up and begged.

'I've had a lovely day,' said Betty, as Nesta was putting on her hat upstairs in the bedroom.

'And so have I,' responded Nesta, laughing. 'You have been very good company, Betty; I shall be quite dull when you are gone.'

'Have you no one to talk to, when I'm not here? Are you an odd one?'

'Perhaps I may be.'

Why don't you make yourself into a couple with some one, like Prince and me?'

But this made Nesta's soft eyes fill with tears; and Betty felt very uncomfortable until she was kissed and told she was the funniest little chatterbox living. The pony carriage came round; and a little later she was being driven home, rather tired, and very happy, at her day's outing.

Nesta left her at the gate, and drove silently home. Betty had brought a good deal of brightness into her life; and though she was always outwardly so cheery in her manner, her heart was often heavy and sore. It was not a cheerful house; and as an hour later she tried to enliven the solemn dinner-table, expecting as usual to meet with no response, but grumbles from Grace and chilling indifference on the part of her mother, she was surprised by Mrs. Fairfax's efforts to take part in the conversation.

'That child is an original character,' she observed. 'Do you know who they are, Nesta?'

'Yes, Mr. Crump was telling me the other day; their father is the Member for Stonycroft, and their mother that Mrs. Stuart who is so busy in philanthropical objects in town. She was one of the Miss Champneys, the clever Miss Champneys, as we used to call them. I think the children must inherit the talents of their parents, for though they are regular little pickles for mischief, they are all original in their way. Betty thinks the most, I should say, the others seem to live in dreamland half their time. I came across the other girl and boy in an old willow tree the other day. I spoke to them, but was hushed up at once by the boy, who put his fair curly head out of the branches, and said, "You're not to speak to us just now; we're hiding from the Queen of the Brook! she comes dashing down in foam, she's so angry with us; and if she splashes us we shall be turned into black dogs, and have to go on all fours till dinner time!" I laughed and left them. I don't altogether envy their nurse!'

'Betty is not enough of a child,' Mrs. Fairfax said; 'some of her sayings are quite uncanny.'

'Do you think so? She has plenty of life and spirits. But she is a child of intense feeling. I am afraid she will suffer for it as she grows older. Yesterday I came upon her outside the churchyard crying, as if her heart would break, over a dead frog. I tried to comfort her. "Oh," she sobbed; "I'm so afraid Prince has killed it. I didn't see him, but he may have; and he doesn't look a bit sorry. What shall I do if he grows up a murderer!"'

Mrs. Fairfax would have thought Betty a stranger child still, if she could have seen her that evening tossing in her little bed.

Molly was fast asleep; nurse had left the room, and all was quiet; but Betty was going over in her busy little mind the events of the past day. At last she stretched out her hand to Prince in his basket.

'She said you had no soul, Prince; I wonder if you haven't! I wish you'd say prayers to God; I'm sure God will give you a soul, if you ought to have one! Prince, wake up!'

Prince rolled over, shook himself, and jumped up on the bed, wondering what was the reason of this summons.

Betty sat up with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. 'Come here. Prince! Now beg! that's right. Now say a prayer; just a very little one. I pray for you, darling, every night; but you're big enough to pray yourself. God will know your language if you speak to Him, and you can just speak secret to Him—I do often. Now, Prince—no—don't lick my hand, and keep your tail still. I wish you'd shut your eyes. I'll put my hand over them—there! Now Prince, ask God to give you a soul, and forgive your sins, and take you to heaven when you die.'

Betty bent her head in silence; whilst for two minutes Prince kept perfectly still; then she took her little hands from his eyes, and he gave a quick short bark of delight, perhaps in anticipation of a lump of sugar for this new trick taught him. If so, he was disappointed, he was only kissed and put back into his basket. And Betty laid her little head on the pillow, but only half satisfied. 'O God,' she murmured sleepily, 'if Prince hasn't prayed properly, please forgive him, and give him a soul and make him a good dog, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.'



CHAPTER XI

A Daring Feat

It was a hot afternoon in July. The children had tired themselves out with play, and were resting under some shady trees near the farm. By and bye Betty wandered off into a neighbouring cornfield, and resting her head against an old log of wood in the corner of it, went fast asleep, whilst Prince sat at her feet, keeping a faithful watch over his little mistress. Mr. Russell, sauntering through a footpath in the field, came up and looked at them; and his artist's eye was at once charmed with the picture they made. He stood, and taking out his sketch-book, drew a rapid outline of Betty's little figure as she lay there, one hand grasping some red poppies, and the other arm thrown behind her curly head. Prince was also sketched; and then Betty awoke. She looked confused at first, then jumped to her feet.

'Don't be frightened,' said Mr. Russell gravely. 'Do you live near here?'

Betty pointed out the farm.

'And do you think you would be allowed to come to my house one day, for me to make a picture of you?'

Betty coloured with pleasure.

'I'll ask nurse. All by myself?'

'All by yourself—at least with your dog. Where is your nurse? Would she come out here to speak to me?'

Nurse was only in the next field, so was easily fetched, and though demurring somewhat at first, was soon reassured by Mr. Russell, who promised to keep her only about an hour.

'I will see she returns to you safely, my good woman; and when you find that she has come to no harm, perhaps you will allow her to come again. I want to make a little sketch of her, for a subject I have in view.'

And it was settled that Betty should go to him the next day at two o'clock.

'I don't quite like it,' said nurse afterwards, when talking it over with Mrs. Giles; 'but he seemed rather a high-handed gentleman, as if he wouldn't take no. I don't know whether the mistress would like it, most children would be shy of it, but none of these seem to know what shyness is; and Miss Betty seems to make friends wherever she goes. I can't understand it; Miss Molly, to my eyes, is much the most taking!'

'Mr. Russell is our landlord,' responded Mrs. Giles; 'he's a proper sort o' gentleman, and he won't hurt the child by a-paintin' of her. He lives all alone since his little girl died, and maybe she'll cheer him up; he's very downhearted, folks say.'

'Why should you go and not us?' said Molly, when Betty ran off to tell them all about it; 'it's too bad; you're getting all the nice things, and I'm the eldest.'

'I don't expect you'll like it,' said Douglas, rolling over on the grass and tickling Bobby's bare legs with a bunch of grass; 'I know the man, and he has an awful temper! Sam told me he thrashed a boy who was taking a bird's nest out of his orchard; and he has a large glass room with skeletons and bits of people's bodies lying all about. I think he likes to get children in there, and then he keeps them prisoners, and never lets them out again.'

Betty stood still, eyeing her brother doubtfully.

'I don't believe it.'

'You wait till he gets you there! He has dead men's legs and hands. Sam says he's seen them through the window! He's a Bluebeard; he always keeps the room locked, and doesn't let any one in. And if he takes you in there to-morrow afternoon, you'll never come out again!'

'And then I shall have Prince, and take him back to London for my dog,' put in Molly.

'Prince is coming with me,' Betty retorted; 'so if I never come back again, Prince won't! And I don't care if we don't come back. I'd rather live with Mr. Russell than with you when you are cross.'

'He'll fatten you up with porridge for a week; and then he'll cut you up into little bits, and Prince too.'

Betty laughed and danced away, Prince at her heels.

'You're jealous because I'm going to be put into a picture,' she called out. 'I'll tell you all about the dead men's legs when I come back.'

The next afternoon she was taken up to the Hall by nurse, who arrayed herself in her best clothes, and was delighted when she was taken to the housekeeper's room to be entertained. She would have liked to wait there the full hour, but Mr. Russell had promised to bring back Betty himself; so she had not that excuse.

And Douglas and Molly were consoling themselves at home, by building a hay castle in the meadow, and capturing Bobby and Billy at intervals, under the plea of painting their pictures; and then going through a process which was more entertaining to them than to their little victims—that of cutting off their arms and legs to hang on their walls.

It was nearly five o'clock when Betty returned, and her little tongue was busy all tea-time.

'Such a funny room! and Mr. Russell had changed his mind, and he isn't going to paint my picture; but he's going to make a dead figure of me and Prince instead; he's got some white wet stuff like putty, and he rolls up his shirt-sleeves like a workman! I had to lie down and pretend to be asleep, but I could keep my eyes open, and I did see some legs, but they're images—and there was a image without a head, a dead figure, you know. And there were beautiful curtains, and flowers, and rugs, and pictures half finished. It was rather an untidy room. I told Mr. Russell what you said, Douglas; and he laughed. He gave me some peaches, and then we had a nice grave talk coming home.'

This and more Betty revealed; and her visits to the Hall became very frequent as time wore on. If she enjoyed them, Mr. Russell did too, and yet she brought to him mingled feelings of pleasure and pain. He talked lightly to her, and put aside his stern moods whilst with her; but every now and then some childish gesture or tone would stab him with the memory of his little daughter, and his brows would contract and his voice falter at the remembrance.

One day he was called away from the studio, and for some time Betty was left alone.

When he returned, he found her lying flat on her chest, turning over the leaves of a book.

'What book have you got hold of?' he asked; 'something that seems to interest you.'

'It's Revelation,' said Betty, with a beaming face.

'The Bible? I did not remember I had one in the room; ah yes, I remember, it's here for its antique cover! Well, what do you make of Revelation?'

'Oh, I love it, don't you? I'm reading about the singing in heaven; and it says "ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands." What crowds there will be! Mr. Russell, supposing heaven gets too small for all the people, what will happen?'

'I don't think there's a chance of that,' Mr. Russell said, smiling; 'it doesn't look as if many are bound there in the present age, at all events.'

'It says,' went on Betty, with her finger on the page, 'for Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by Thy blood, out of every kindred and tongue and people and nation; that takes in everybody, doesn't it, Mr. Russell?'

'Yes,' said Mr. Russell, looking down at the little figure on the floor, half humorously, half sadly; 'every one that wants to be taken in.'

'Why should any one want to be outside?' questioned the child.

Mr. Russell did not answer; he went to his outline and uncovered it. It was rapidly progressing. Betty's little figure was nearly finished. There was the gnarled log of wood against which she lay; and Prince's outline had already been commenced.

She jumped up and came over to look at it.

'It would make a beautiful grave, wouldn't it?' she said thoughtfully; 'I should like to have it put on the top of mine when I die.'

'Don't talk about dying, child!' was the hasty reply.

'I'm afraid I'm not ready,' said Betty, with a shake of her curly head; 'but I will be when I've been through tribulation! Mr. Russell, do you think a dog can go through tribulation?'

'No, I do not,' said Mr. Russell, laughing. Betty's views on her favourite text were by this time well known to him; and he generally treated her childish difficulties with respect; but this unexpected question was too much for him, and Betty's little face clouded over at his laugh. She was very silent after that, and went home with rather a wistful little face.

But all serious thoughts were dissolved at the news that awaited her. Molly rushed out, her long hair flying in the wind: 'I've got a letter from Uncle Harry, and he is coming to see us next week!'

'And he's going to spend a week with us; he's going to fish, and I shall fish too!' shouted Douglas.

'And Uncle Harry will have cwicket with us!' cried the twins.

'Of course he wrote to me, as I'm the eldest,' said Molly proudly; 'if you'll be very good I'll read you his letter.' And producing a very crumpled envelope from her pocket, she read:—

'DEAR MADAM MOLLY,—

'I have had orders from your respected parents to come down for an inspection of you all; so expect me Tuesday, the 27th inst. Tell nurse all complaints will be attended to, and punishment duly administered. She must get me a room somewhere for a week, as I have heard there is good fishing in your neighbourhood. My love to doughty Douglas and the three B's.

'Your affectionate uncle, 'HARRY.

'P.S.—Tell nurse I shall bring a rod with me.'

'Isn't he a funny dear?' went on Molly. 'He pretends he's coming to punish us! Won't we have fun when he comes!'

'He doesn't know there are six of us now,' observed Betty, with sparkling eyes; 'I wonder what he will say to Prince.'

The children could do little else but talk about their uncle's coming visit for the next week; and when at last Tuesday arrived, they were in a great state of excitement. Nurse could hardly curb their turbulent spirits. Captain Stuart was adored by his little nephews and nieces, and his visits were always a golden time. At last, after rescuing Douglas from a farm wagon that he was driving off during the carter's absence, Molly and Betty from an infuriated sow that they were trying to wash under the pump, and Bobby and Billy from a hay-cutter they were meditating using, nurse locked up all the five in the garret, hoping they would be safe there until their uncle arrived. Prince was left outside; and all Betty's beseeching petitions that he might share their punishment were unheeded by nurse. So Prince crouched down outside the door, patiently keeping watch, and now and then responding to his little mistress's voice through the keyhole by sundry whines and barks.

'Nurse won't dare to put us in cells after to-day,' said Douglas wrathfully; 'she is just doing it to pretend to Uncle Harry that we're always in disgrace; and I hate her!'

'And I was going down to the brook to get some forget-me-nots, to put in Uncle Harry's room,' said Molly plaintively.

'It's wather nice being punished all together,' said Bobby, who always dreaded being left alone.

Betty said nothing; her curly head was out of one of the windows, and she was deep in thought. At last she drew it in.

'S'posing the house was to take fire, and we were all to be locked in here?' she suggested.

Molly looked quite frightened at the thought; but Douglas rose to the occasion, and he said triumphantly,—

'Yes, nurse would be in a pretty state then! Farmer Giles would rush off for a fire-engine; we would throw up the windows, and then I'd get out on the roof and make a speech. I'd remind nurse of all the nasty things she has said and done to us since we were babies; how she has said over and over again there never were such children in the world, and that we nearly drove her mad; and then I'd say she'd be sorry now when she was going to see us burnt before her eyes; and she would be sobbing and crying, and so would Mrs. Giles and Sam and all the others!'

'But they might get ladders to take us down,' suggested Molly.

'There's only one ladder long enough. Sam would put that up, but the flames underneath the floor would come out and burn the ladder in two; and there's no fire-escape! They don't seem to have them in the country. I should go on speaking as long as I could, and then I should say we didn't wish to go down to our graves angry, so we would forgive her, only we hoped the next children she had she would be kinder to. And then I would say good-bye; and the roof would be cracking underneath me; and nurse would scream and cry; and then I would take a leap right into the middle of the fire; and there would be a kind of explosion, and the house would fall in; and the next day there would be five heaps of bones and black ashes! all that was left of us! and nurse would sit down with a broken heart in the middle of us!'

Bobby and Billy had been listening to this awful story with their eyes nearly starting out of their heads; and now both burst into sobs of terror. 'We're going to be burnt! Nurse, nurse, let us out; we will be good!'

They were hushed up in scorn by Douglas; but Molly soothed and comforted them, assuring them it was only a make-up, and that the house never would catch fire.

'And if it did catch fire I would get out safe,' said Betty solemnly; 'for I should climb out of the window and walk along the gutter, holding on by the roof; and then I should climb down by the pear tree over Uncle Harry's bedroom.'

'You couldn't do it,' said Douglas scoffingly; 'girls can't climb!'

'I could do it; I could do it now!'

'Then do it, do it; I dare you to do it!'

Betty's eyes sparkled; and Molly at once left the twins, and ran to the window and put her head out.

'I think she could do it if we lifted her out; but it looks awful dangerous; I should be afraid.'

'I'm not a bit afraid,' said Betty sturdily.

'You wait till you're once out. I dare you to do it!' And Douglas danced up and down in delight at the coming excitement.

Not a doubt entered Betty's head as to the right or wrong of such an escapade; her impulsive little soul was longing to prove to her brother her ability in climbing, and audacious as she was in daring feats, this seemed to be a test of her powers. The garret window was opened; it was in the roof, so Betty had no difficulty in climbing out and standing in the gutter, which ran right round the house. Then slowly and carefully, in sight of the four admiring faces at the window, she commenced her perilous walk. Steadying herself by leaning with one hand on the sloping roof at her right, Betty walked triumphantly on till she reached the corner of the house; here she hesitated.

'Come back,' called out Molly; 'you can't turn the corner!'

'I dare you to go on!' naughty Douglas cried excitedly.

There was breathless silence; but others besides the little inmates of the garret were watching this feat in horror. Two gentlemen were walking leisurely through the meadow in front of the house.

'What on earth is that on the roof, Stuart? Not a child, surely!'

'A child it is; good heavens! It's one of my hopeful nieces; she'll be dashed to pieces to a certainty! Come on, St. Clair; only don't make a row!'

They reached the house as Betty was in the act of turning the corner. For a moment the little figure swayed outwardly, and Captain Stuart quite expected that moment to be Betty's last; but she recovered her balance most miraculously, accomplished the turn successfully, and went steadily on till she reached the pear tree.

Both gentlemen remained perfectly silent, knowing that a start might produce a false step, and they watched her descent to the ground now with less anxiety. Half-way down had Betty got, when there was a rushing sound of feet, and nurse, with a scream of horror appeared on the scene.

Betty's nerves gave way; she placed her foot on a rotten branch, which broke under her; her hands relaxed their hold. Another scream from nurse, echoed by Mrs. Giles behind her, and the child fell heavily, but safely, into her uncle's arms below.



CHAPTER XII

Uncle Harry's Friend

'There's a pretty welcome for a tired man who wants his dinner!'

Betty was standing before her uncle with a white little face and determined, set mouth, and nurse was releasing the other little prisoners and bringing them down to their uncle.

Captain Stuart's friend was lounging on the low window-seat of the best parlour, looking on with an amused eye.

'Nurse thinks you ought to have a good whipping,' continued Captain Stuart, stroking his long, fair moustache very gravely, though there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. 'I think we must have a court-martial first. Were you trying to kill yourself, Betty?'

'I was trying to save myself from a fire—I mean a fire that might be.'

The sentence was begun bravely, but the little lips began to quiver. Shaken by her fall, afraid of her uncle's anger, and uncomfortable by the presence of a stranger, she burst into tears.

And then Captain Stuart took her on his knee, and drew out his large handkerchief.

'There, little woman, rest your head against my shoulder and cry away; it will do you good. I was beginning to think you a little stoic.'

The door opened, and the other children appeared, with very large eyes and solemn faces.

They kissed their uncle in a subdued fashion, and then Molly said, 'Nurse told us Betty had fallen, is she hurt?'

'Is her legs bwoken?' demanded the twins.

'I knew she couldn't do it; I told her she couldn't!'

In an instant Betty's face appeared from behind her handkerchief. 'I did do it; I did! and I could do it again to-morrow; so there, Douglas!'

Then Uncle Harry laughed outright, after which he pulled himself up, and said as sternly as he could,—

'Now look here, youngsters, I'm not good at scolding, as you know; but you're all old enough to know that it is not true pluck to go crawling round roofs like cats, and running the risks of breaking your necks and damaging your limbs for the rest of your lives. Now then, who is to blame? Speak up like little Britons, and don't be ashamed of owning up and telling the truth about it.'

There was a pause. Douglas got very red in the face, but blurted out, 'I dared her to do it.'

'And I said I thought she could do it,' said Molly with tearful eyes; 'but I did ask her to come back at the corner.'

'And I dared her to go on,' added Douglas.

'And Bobby and me clapped our hands at her,' put in Billy eagerly, feeling anxious to share in the glory of the escapade.

'Do you think it a brave thing to urge another on to danger, when, perhaps, you would be afraid of taking their place yourself?'

It was Douglas who was addressed, and he hung his head in shame.

'But he was just getting out of the window to follow her, when nurse came up,' said Molly, in defence of her favourite brother.

'I didn't know boys were in the habit of following girls,' remarked Captain Stuart drily. 'I think doughty Douglas must have another name. Listen, my boy, and remember this to the end of your life. There were two young fellows came out to join our battalion in Egypt. We were ordered out one morning on a reconnaissance, and both these youngsters came with us. They were strong, fresh-faced young fellows, one especially; he was the heir to a big property at home, and had left his widow mother to come and earn a name for himself. I can see him now, with his sparkling eyes and merry laugh, as he rode on just in front of me with his chum. I won't give you children details, but we had a sharp bit of fighting that morning, and bullets were flying pretty freely. At the finish, when returning, having dispersed our enemy, we came across another party of them entrenched on a height. Orders were given to fire lying down, as they were skilled marksmen and had the advantage of the position. "Now then," whispered one of these young fellows to the other, "make your name; scale the hillside and storm their fort."

'"I would if I had my orders to," was the quick retort.

'"We're like rabbits in the underwood," the youngster went on. "Do those skulking fellows think we're afraid of showing ourselves? A good British cheer and a sight of our rifles would soon send them to the right-about. The poor old major is dead beat and wants a nap, or he wouldn't give such an order. Show yourself, Castleton; let them have a sight of your six foot six. What? afraid!"

'In an instant Johnny Castleton stood up in the full strength of his manhood, and the next moment his brains were scattered by a bullet, his dead body falling into the arms of the friend who was the cause of his death. Do you think he died the death of a hero, Betty? How do you think his friend felt, Douglas, when he had to write home and tell the widowed mother her boy would never come back to her? Do you know, the folly of his act so weighed upon his mind that he left the army, and when I last heard of him his friends were afraid that his reason was giving way. There now! I've made your faces solemn enough to satisfy nurse. And you will never dare your sisters to do foolhardy exploits again, will you, my boy? And you will never listen to him if he does, girls? Now my lecture is ended, and you can tell nurse to forgive you all. Where is Mrs. Giles? I wonder if she could put up my friend for a night or two.'

Captain Stuart put Betty down from his knee, and rose to his feet. He so seldom lectured the children that his words left a deep impression, and none of them ever forgot the lesson imprinted on their minds. They were rather subdued for the rest of the day, and not altogether pleased at the advent of Major St. Clair.

'We shan't get Uncle Harry a bit to ourselves,' grumbled Douglas, as the children were playing in the garden whilst the gentlemen were at dinner; 'he'll be going out fishing with that other fellow every day, and he's going to stay the whole week with him.'

'I like him rather,' said Molly; 'he is something like Mr. Roper.'

'He has nice sad eyes,' put in Betty; 'and he likes Prince.'

But before long Major St. Clair was taken into favour. He was a tall, dark man, with rather a stern look, until he smiled; and then the children knew they need not be afraid, for he had more smiles than frowns for them during his stay. Douglas, to his great delight, was allowed to go fishing with them.

'You see,' he confided to his sisters, 'they couldn't get on very well without me, as I'm learning to put their bait on for them, and I help to unpack their luncheon-basket, and very often I lie down on the bank and tell them stories; they like that very much.'

One afternoon they were all in the orchard under some shady trees: the gentlemen were smoking and reading the papers, the children playing a little way off. Presently Betty came sauntering up to her uncle, Prince close at her heels.

'We're going for a walk,' she said; 'I s'pose you wouldn't like to come with us?'

None of the little Stuarts ever did anything without first inviting their uncle to participate in it.

'No, I wouldn't,' he said, leaning lazily back in his wicker chair and surveying the little figure before him with amused eyes. 'Where are you bound? Your independence of thought and action will be sadly crippled when you get back to town. Does nurse let you all scour the country at your own free will?'

'What does scour mean?' asked Betty with knitted brows. 'Does it mean scrub? for I'm sure the country doesn't want cleaning.' Then, not liking the laugh following her words, she went on hastily: 'Nurse doesn't ask where I go, so I don't tell her; but I go to church, when I don't go to Mr. Russell.'

'And what do you do there?'

'Well,' said Betty, looking very steadily at her uncle, 'if you and Major St. Clair won't say anything about it, I'll tell you.'

'Wild horses won't tear it from me,' said the major.

'I go to take some flowers to a little dead girl there; she likes to smell them, and hold them in her hands instead of the dead lily she has got. And then I've got a friend who meets me there—a lady she is—and she sings the most beautiful songs on the organ! they make me cry sometimes. And the church is so dark, and still, and cool; it's a beautiful place.'

'Will you let me come with you?' asked Major St. Clair, rising as he spoke.

'It is an enchanting programme,' murmured Uncle Harry; 'tears amongst the dead! I warn you, my dear fellow, the church is nearly a mile away.'

'I want to stretch my legs,' was the response.

Betty set off radiant, with much self-importance.

'You see,' she said, looking up at the major through her long lashes as she trotted along at his side, 'I don't always ask people to come with me; Prince and I are quite enough. But you're a visitor, and so is Uncle Harry. You won't talk or make a noise in church, will you? And will you help me to get some honeysuckle from the hedge as we go along? Violet will like to smell it—at least, I make believe she will.'

The walk seemed a short one to the major, Betty entertained him so well. When they reached the church, she took him straight to the monument she loved so much, and was pleased with his genuine admiration of it. She placed the honeysuckle reverentially in the clasped hands of the little figure, which she stooped down to kiss as usual, and then pointed to the stained window above.

'Don't you like it?' she said in a solemn whisper. 'And do you see the text? Mr. Russell put it there. I was asking him the other day about it. I asked him if he was like one of the disciples that wanted to keep the children away from Jesus, and if he put it up for that, and he said, Yes, he did want to forbid Violet to go to Jesus when He called her. I expect Violet is very glad she wasn't kept back, don't you think so?'

'I expect so,' the major responded gravely.

'She wasn't any bigger than me,' continued Betty, standing before the window with clasped hands, and that upward dreamy look that always came upon her sweet little face when talking about serious things, 'but she's got through tribulation safely. Mr. Russell told me how she bore all the pain of her illness for a whole year without a grumble; and pain and suffering is tribulation, isn't it?'

'What do you know about tribulation?'

How often had Betty been asked that question!

'I know a great deal about it,' she said, looking at the major very earnestly; 'and though I haven't had it, I'm expecting to. Have you had it?'

'No, I don't know that I have,' was the amused reply. Then, a shadow crossing his face, he added: 'Trouble and I are not strangers. I think I have had my share.'

'And a big trouble is tribulation, isn't it? And it's on the way to heaven.'

Then the major smiled his sweet smile. 'That's it, Betty, on the way to heaven. We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.'

'And have you had a big trouble?' persisted the child.

'Yes, I have,' the major said slowly; 'a very big trouble, Betty. At one time of my life it would have overwhelmed me, but I've learnt to take things differently now.'

'You'll hear my friend sing about tribulation, p'raps, if I ask her to; she will be here directly. Where will you sit? I like to sit on the chancel step, and Prince sits in my lap.'

'I will find a seat for myself. Perhaps I shall slip away into the sunshine again.'

And Major St. Clair sauntered round the church, looking at the old tablets until he heard the door open, and then he slipped into a seat at the side of the church behind an old stone pillar.

Betty seated herself on the chancel steps after her greetings with her friend were over. The picture she made as she sat there was long riveted on Major St. Clair's memory: the golden sunshine streaming in, the old carved pews in the background, and the dainty little white figure hugging her spaniel in her arms, would have charmed an artist's eye. But it was not this sight that made the strong man suddenly turn pale and clutch the back of the seat in front of him with nervous, trembling hands; his startled gaze was no longer upon Betty, but upon the slight, graceful figure that was now taking her seat at the organ.

Betty's clear, childish voice was heard,—

'Please sing about tribulation. I've brought some one with me who would like to hear it. He's listening at the back of the church.'

Nesta gave a hasty look round, but seeing no one, turned again to the organ, and in a minute her beautiful voice rose in the triumphant strains of the song of the redeemed. Major St. Clair folded his arms, and stood up behind his pillar. He seemed strangely moved, and as the last notes died away he hastily quitted the church.



CHAPTER XIII

'When We Two Met!'

Betty was so absorbed in the music that she forgot all about the major.

'When I grow up, do you think I shall be able to play and sing like you do?' she asked, with a little sigh of happiness.

'I dare say you may, dear.'

'But shall I have an organ to play? In London you can't go into any church and play, can you?'

'No; it is only because I know the clergyman here that he gives me permission.'

'And why do you never come to church here on Sunday?'

'Because we have a little church nearer us; but it has not an organ, and so I come over here.'

'Do you know what I do when you're singing? I shut my eyes and pretend I'm in heaven. It's lovely! If you shut yours you could pretend too, and I wish you could go on singing for ever and ever!'

Nesta laughed, and kissed the little eager, up-turned face. 'I should get very tired and hungry, I'm afraid. I am not an angel, Betty; but you're right, darling. I, too, get very near to heaven when I'm singing;' and she added musingly,—

In heart and mind ascending, My spirit follows Thee.'

When, a little later, Nesta came out of the church with Betty, the tall figure of Major St. Clair came forward to meet them.

'Good-afternoon, Miss Fairfax.'

His tone was cold and grave; but Nesta started, and turned white to her very lips; then with an effort she recovered her composure, and held out her hand.

'It is a long time since we have met,' she said.

There was a pause, but Betty came to the rescue with the delightful unconsciousness of childhood.

'Do you know my Miss Fairfax?' she asked the major. 'You never told me you did. Didn't she sing beautifully? Did you like "Tribulation"? We like it the best of all her songs, don't we, Prince?'

She stooped to caress her little dog; then, as he broke away from her, she darted after him.

Major St. Clair stood still, and his eyes never moved from Nesta's face.

'Do we meet as strangers?' he asked.

'No,' she said, a little unsteadily, and her lips quivered in spite of herself, as she strove in vain to meet his gaze calmly; 'as old friends, I hope.'

'Never!' he said, a passionate light coming to his eyes; 'it must be everything or nothing to me, as I told you long ago.'

She was silent; a little sigh escaped her, so hopeless and yet so patient, that Major St. Clair continued hotly,—

'I would not have come here, had I known you were in this neighbourhood; but having met I cannot go without a word with you. Nesta, you are not happy; I see it in your face! Time has not soothed and comforted you; why will you not let me share your trouble and stand by you when perhaps you need a friend more than ever you did in days of old? Do you realize the blank you are making in my life, as well as in your own? Yes, I know I am taking much for granted; but yours is not a nature to change. I believe in you now as I always did, and it is only your mistaken ideas of duty that have brought this trouble into our lives.'

He paused, and then Nesta spoke, looking away from the low churchyard wall by which they were standing to the hills in the distance.

'I am sorry we have met,' she said simply, 'very sorry, for it is pain to us both; but the circumstances in my life have not changed; I cannot act differently; my mother and sister require me, and my mother——' Her voice faltered.

'Your mother is still of the same opinion,' he said. 'I look back with regret to my heated words when last I saw her. Time and another Teacher has shown me since where I was wrong; but, Nesta, let me plead my—may I say our cause with her again? She has no right to spoil our lives, and it is no true kindness to her to allow her to do it. Give me your permission to come and see her.'

'I cannot; it will only stir up her grief and pain afresh. She will not, cannot, look at things in a different light.'

'And are you going to part with me like this?'

His tone was low and husky with feeling. He added, a little drearily, 'I wonder, after all, if your affection has cooled; you speak so calmly about it all, that it makes one think——'

Nesta heard him so far, and then put out her hand as if to stop him.

'Oh, Godfrey!'

That was all; but as the old familiar name slipped from her lips she burst into tears, and turning aside, leant her arms on the old wall and buried her head in them.

Major St. Clair stepped up quickly. 'Nesta, Nesta, you must not! I cannot stand it! My darling, we cannot part like this!'

What he might have done was never known; perhaps, with his strong arm round her, Nesta would have yielded then and there; but a most inopportune childish voice broke in close by.

'You've made her cry! You've made my Miss Fairfax cry!' And with a little rush Betty flew to comfort her friend.

In an instant Nesta was standing erect again.

'It is nothing, darling; we have been talking over old times. Good-bye, Major St. Clair.'

She turned down a path at the side of the church, whilst Major St. Clair gazed after her in bewilderment and vexation.

'Oh!' he said, shaking his head at Betty as they retraced their way homewards, 'you're like a little boy I once knew, who would bring me a delicious plate of cherries. "Would you like to have some, major? Look at them; aren't they lovely?" And then, as I stretched out my hand, he would snatch them back with malicious glee, and gobble them up in my sight.'

'He was a very rude little boy,' said Betty, a little offended, 'and I don't think I'm a bit like him, for I haven't brought you anything this afternoon.'

Very restless and uneasy was Major St. Clair all that evening; Captain Stuart more than once took him to task for his moodiness and absence of mind, but was quite unsuccessful in eliciting a satisfactory explanation.

The next day they went off fishing together, but about four o'clock Major St. Clair left his friend and sauntered back to the house. Finding Betty and Prince playing together outside, he called her to him, and, lying full length on the grass, led her on to talk about Nesta. Betty innocently fell in with his wish; she gave him a graphic description of her day at Holly Grange, and then went back to the day when she first met Mrs. Fairfax in the wood.

'She's like a queen,' said the eager child; 'her face is so stern and proud, but she's very sad! Every grown-up person seems sad about here! I like Mrs. Fairfax very much; she gave me Prince.'

Major St. Clair listened, and asked questions, and then suddenly started to his feet.

'Come for a walk with me,' he said; 'wait till I have written a letter, and then we will start.'

'To church again?' inquired Betty.

'No, not to church; to Holly Grange.'

'It's miles and miles,' said Betty dubiously; 'I went in a pony carriage, but if you go by the wood it is shorter.'

'Oh, we shall manage it very well, and if you are tired I will carry you.'

Major St. Clair's tone was quite cheerful, and Betty set off with him, delighted at being chosen as his companion.

'Are you going to see Miss Fairfax?' she asked presently.

'No, I don't think I shall go into the house at all; but I want you to take a note to Mrs. Fairfax and bring me back an answer.'

Betty coloured up with pleasure. 'I shall like to do that,' she said; 'it's such a nice house inside, and you should see the flowers! I think I could be quite happy if I were Mrs. Fairfax, couldn't you?'

She chattered on, and when at last the gates were reached, Major St. Clair entrusted her with the important letter.

'Give it to Mrs. Fairfax yourself, Betty, and tell her I would like to see her very much.'

Betty nodded, and clasped the letter tightly in one little hand, Prince followed her closely up the drive. The hall-door stood open, and for a moment the child hesitated; then the old butler crossed the hall, and she called out eagerly,—

'Please, can I come in and see Mrs. Fairfax?'

The man looked surprised. 'I don't think she will see you,' he said, smiling; 'Mrs. Fairfax sees no visitors.'

'But I'm not a visitor,' said the little girl; 'I'm only Betty, and I've got a letter to give her.'

'I will go and see.'

He disappeared, but returned a minute after.

'Come in, missy—this way.'

He led the child into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Fairfax was presiding at the afternoon tea-table. Nesta was not there, and Grace was just leaving the room.

A smile lightened Mrs. Fairfax's grave face at the sight of Betty.

'All alone?' she asked, bending down to kiss her.

'I've come to bring you a letter,' said Betty, dimpling over with pleasure and importance.

Mrs. Fairfax made her sit down in a little cushioned chair, and took the note in her hand. As she read it, she knitted her brows, and her lips took their sternest curve; then rising she went to the farther end of the room, and stood looking out of the low French window, her back turned to Betty, and her hands clenched convulsively by her side.

Nesta was right in surmising what a torrent of painful memories would be aroused by Major St. Clair's advent in their neighbourhood.

If the letter had come a few weeks before, there would have been only one answer; but Mrs. Fairfax had been learning lately from the great Master Himself, and her heart was softened and subdued. Still it was a hard struggle, and pride fought for predominance. At length she turned round, and went to her writing-desk; and then Betty crept up softly to her.

'Major St. Clair asked me to ask you to see him,' she said, laying her little hand on Mrs. Fairfax's knee.

'I will write my answer, Betty; I cannot do that,' was the cold reply, as Mrs. Fairfax turned her head away from the child.

But Betty was not to be put off.

'I think he would like to see you very much; and you'd like him, for he is Uncle Harry's friend; and he has such sad eyes, and he has been through tribulation like you; at least, he has had a big trouble, he told me; and that's just the same, isn't it?'

There was no answer. Betty continued: 'Shall I just go out and bring him in? I've been telling him about you this afternoon, and how you gave me the lilies, and Prince, and he liked to hear it; he asked me a lot of questions, and I think he wants to see you, and if you're like a queen, like I told him!'

Then Mrs. Fairfax lifted the child on her knee. 'Oh Betty, Betty!' was all she said, but some glistening drops fell on the child's curly head, as the grey head was bent over it, and Betty wondered why Mrs. Fairfax's voice sounded so strange. 'I think you will have to bring him in here,' Mrs. Fairfax said at last; and Betty trotted out of the room in great delight. She found the major pacing up and down the road with a white, resolute face. He threw away the cigar he was smoking when he saw the child, and asked, with anxiety in his dark eyes,—

'Well, little woman, how have you fared?'

'You're to come in and see her.'

'Thank God!' and not another word did the major say till he was in the drawing-room.

It was a constrained and formal greeting between the two; and then Mrs. Fairfax turned to Betty,—

'Will you run into the garden, dear, till we call you? I think Grace is out there.'

Betty obeyed. Grace was walking slowly up and down the path, enveloped in shawls, and did not look well-pleased when the childish voice sounded in her ear,—

'May I come and walk with you?'

'Were you sent out here? Nesta, I suppose, as usual is out, so she will not be able to look after you, and I certainly am not in a fit state of health to amuse you and keep you out of mischief.'

'I'm not going to get into mischief, really,' protested Betty in an aggrieved tone; 'I'll walk quietly along with you, and won't even pick a flower. Are you better today?'

'No, I am not better—I don't expect I ever shall be, though I can get no sympathy from any one in this house.'

'What's the matter with you?' asked Betty.

'Now, if you are going to worry me with questions, you can just run away; if you were to be kept awake night after night, and never know what it was to be without headaches, having every nerve in your body quivering from exhaustion, you wouldn't wonder what the matter was.'

'I expect you're like Violet, only she could never leave her bed. Mr. Russell said she would sometimes have no sleep all night, and she was so patient, she used to say, "Read me about there shall be no pain." Mr. Russell said he wouldn't have been half so patient as she was. And now she is singing right in the middle of "these are they which came out of great tribulation." Wouldn't you like to be her?'

Grace was silent. Betty's active little tongue turned to other subjects; she told about her visit to the Hall, of her 'dead figure' which was being made out of 'soft putty'; of Prince's misdemeanours when he tried to chase chickens, and then came back to his little mistress with his tail between his legs; of Douglas and Molly's wonderful games, and the twins' talents for getting into trouble; she told her of her walk on the roof, and the story of the young soldiers related by Uncle Harry; and Grace listened, and eventually was amused and interested in spite of herself.

It was a long time before Betty was summoned to the house; and then she met the major in the hall.

'Run in, little one, and wish Mrs. Fairfax good-bye.'

Mrs. Fairfax stooped to kiss Betty; all the hard lines in her face had disappeared, and her voice was unusually gentle.