Alice said she had learned her lessons while Dora was with Gilbert in the garden, and a glow of self-satisfaction tinged her cheeks as she spoke.

'Oh, dear! it's all the beasts' fault,' said Dora. I am so behindhand, what shall I do?'

Tell father how it was to-morrow, is sure to excuse you,' said Alice.

he

I don't like to do that again,' said Dora. I did last Sunday, when I was out cowslip-picking with Gilbert all Saturday afternoon. I could manage if it wasn't for those horrid frills; but nurse won't do them for me, because she warned me in the morning.'

Alice was not an ill-natured girl, she was strongly tempted to say, 'Leave the frills to me; but then it came across her, that it was hard Dora should have all the

fun and frolic, and leave her work for other people to do afterwards: so she put aside the kindly feeling, or rather buried it under the thought that if Dora was careless she must suffer for it, and perhaps it would teach her to manage better for the future. Not kindly thoughts towards a little sister, but Alice had no suspicion. of this, and went into the garden to amuse

herself after tea with a perfectly easy conscience.

At half-past eight she came in again, and found Gilbert squatted tailor-fashion on the table, among a heap of light-blue drapery.

6

What are you doing there?' asked Alice curiously.

Sewing a frill on that unfortunate child's frock,' returned Gilbert. I found her splashing it all over with tears, and tired to death, so I sent her to bed and took her needle from her: but, I say, it does prick!'

How far this was her own fault she had never taken the trouble to inquire.

For the last three years since the baby's birth and her mother's death she had been a kind of little mistress in the house, subject to no one but her father, whose great indulgence was but little check upon her. To do her justice she was generally gentle and submissive to him, but the servants, and Gilbert when at home, objected to obeying so young a ruler. Old nurse openly declared Miss Alice to be growing too masterful, and she it was who privately suggested to Mr. Swayne the plan of getting a governess for the two little girls.

Gilbert was well placed with a curate in the neighbouring town of Shockley, who took a dozen pupils, and but for an attack

of whooping-cough during the Easter holidays, which detained him at home, would now have been engaged with his studies. He therefore had little to do with the kind, plain, sensible woman who came to the Rectory as governess, determined to do her best for the motherless children.

They all liked her, for she was very wise and cautious, unwilling to control them more than was necessary for their good, and anxious to make Alice look upon her as much as a friend as a teacher.

Dora, despite schoolroom troubles, was always at Miss Dawkins' side, chattering to her, asking her advice about her toys and occupations, and making it evident that the arrival of the new governess was a pleasant event in her life.

As for Gilbert, he pronounced her no humbug, his best form of praise.

Moor Thornton, the village of which Mr. Swayne was Rector, was one of the prettiest in England. Artists, as they passed along that great southern road, never guessed at the beauties that a rising knoll concealed from them. So the grey old church with its yew-walk, the rambling ivy covered parsonage, and the quaint, newly-built school, still belonged entirely to the villagers; and perhaps it was as well. Mr. Swayne took great interest in the school; outside he had had it entirely rebuilt, inside re-formed. A very old clerk and his very old wife had for many years previously taught the Moor children to read and write in a tiny unventilated cottage called the School-house, but shortly after Mr. Swayne's appointment to the living they had died, and then this new house was built, and a good schoolmaster and his sister were installed as instructors.

The nearest town, Shockley, was five miles distant, so the villagers were entirely

dependent for the education of their children on their own school.

One, or two mothers, hearing that Mr. and Miss Brett came from London, were, however, a little disappointed that fancywork was not an accomplishment taught to their daughters, and one or two farmers desired Latin and Greek for their sons, but for these they had still to depend on Shockley.

Steady work went on in Moor Schoolhouse from nine to four every week-day; but on Sundays, as Mr. Swayne disliked Sunday lessons, it was used for little more than a place in which to collect the children, and steady them down for their short walk to church.

Mr. Swayne would have them learn just the Collect, more as a prayer for daily use in the week, than as a task to be repeated; and then each child was encouraged to commit to memory such psalms or hymns as pleased it best. Sunday should be no day of toil, Mr. Swayne was determined; neither should the sound of church bells in the early morning herald a day of dullness and forced religion.

So the Church services were short and cheerful; very little ones, to whom it was a pain to sit still, were discouraged from attending unless they came as babes in their mothers' arms; and such infant worshippers who had overrated their powers of attention, and who drooped their little heads in church-time, were, by stringent orders from head-quarters, neither cuffed nor shaken, but softly pillowed on some elder child's lap, where they disturbed no one, and presently awoke serene and refreshed. No one slept but infants, however: Mr. Swayne took care of that; he interested the rest so that they must listen, whether they would or no. (To be continued.)