languid interest roused by the young governess's
evident delight. " You will like that.
I think you have spent all your holidays
till now at Clapham, have you not?"

"Yes: it was too expensive to go all the
way home."

"It must be a long journey to Farley."

"Yes: I have to start at eight in the
morning, and I get to Brigham, our nearest
town, at five."

"Dear me! that is a long time to be in
the train, and in this cold weather too, eight
—nine hours!"

"It is the cheapest train: I don't mind
its being slow," Mary said, simply: "my
brother will meet me at Brigham."

"Well, good-night," said Mrs. Halroyd,
rising: " not good-by,—for I shall see you
to-morrow. You don't leave town till the
next day, I think?"

"If I may stay," said Mary, "I should
like to do a little shopping before I go."

"Certainly: I hope the servants will take
.good care of you." And Mrs. Halroyd
departed, congratulating herself on having got
over her quarterly penance of paying Miss
Mackworth's salary: a thing to which she
never could get accustomed. She always
fancied that it must be as painful to the
governess as to herself; wherein she was
wholly mistaken, for it appeared to Mary
the most natural and desirable arrangement
in the world that she should work hard and
be paid for doing so. Her first act was to
draw out the three crisp, rustling five-pound
notes—her quarter's salary—and actually
waltz round once or twice in a burst of childish
happiness. Then she went to her desk,
and drew out two more five-pound notes,
saved from the last quarter at the cost of
who knows what weary hours of ceaseless
stitchery; what private washings, and
starchings of sleeves and laces; what vigorous
self-denial in the matter of ribbons and
dresses, things which no one appreciated
more thoroughly than Mary Mackworth.

"How much," she deliberated, "may I
fairly spend in presents? How much must
I keep for those terrible Christmas bills at
home? The journey will cost—let me see —
I will go third class instead of second—that
will save something. And one thing I may
let myself get:—a winter shawl for the dear
mother—that is useful— that she really
wants. Harry must take the stockings I
have knitted him for a present and
anything will please the little boys. But oh!
I should like to get papa that book about
the Jewish church that he said would be so
useful in his lectures on the Old Testament,
and I must keep a little money to buy some
trifle for Cilla: something dainty and pretty,
like her dear bonny self!"

Next morning the whole Halroyd family
were off soon after breakfast to spend
Christmas with Colonel Halroyd's mother at
her place in Surrey. As soon as the two
cabs and the carriage had disappeared, and
Miss Mackworth could cease smiling and
kissing her hand to the little nodding,
grinning faces at the window, she turned back
into the house, and raced nimbly up-stairs,
rejoicing that she might run up two steps
at a time without setting a bad example,
put on her cloak and bonnet, looped up her
dress, provided herself with a thick cotton
umbrella, and set forth on her round of
shopping. She had settled with her
conscience the exact sum which she might
allow herself to spend in presents: and as is
usually the case, that sum did not go as far
as she had expected. As she went to
distant shops, and performed all her errands
on foot, it took a long time, and the short
daylight was almost gone, when, having
bought a serviceable shawl for her mother,
some toys for the children, and a few cheap
prettinesses for her sister, she looked with
dismay at the money in her purse, now
considerably dwindled.

"Oh dear! shall I ever be able to get
that Jewish book for papa?" she thought:
and then, wrapping herself in her cloak,
for the afternoon was very bleak and raw,
with a biting wind, she betook herself to a
bookseller's in Oxford- street. The man
supplied all Mrs. Halroyd's school- room books,
and knew Miss Mackworth well. He saw
and pitied her look of blank disappointment
when the work proved to be quite beyond
her means, and good-naturedly made a
suggestion.

"I'll tell you where you might possibly
get it for your price, ma'am. They often
sell off their surplus copies at Grrueby's, and
you might have a chance there."

"Oh! thank you," said Miss Mackworth,
heartily; and, quite undismayed at the
increasing cold and thickening darkness, she
hailed a passing omnibus, and soon found
herself at her new destination. Rather
timidly, for the place was new to her, she
approached the counter, and, to her great
joy, found what she wanted at a more
moderate price than she had dared to hope.
She could not repress an exclamation of
pleasure, and then coloured, feeling that
her earnest " Oh! that is nice!" low- toned
though it was, had attracted the attention
of a gentleman who was standing by, waiting
for a box of books. The box made its
appearance just as Mary had laid down