soul. "It was always an engaging little thing,"
she admitted mentally.

"Do they beat you?" the lady continued.

"No, ma'am," the child returned, opening
her eyes wider than ever.

"Tant pis," said the lady. "When I was
young they used to beat me like a sack. It is
true," she added, turning to Miss Barbara.

Miss Bunnycastle made a genteel inclination
of the head, which might mean anything; but I
believe that in the recesses of her mind the
thought just then was uppermost, that if that
handsome lady had been one of her young lady-
boarders, and of a convenient age, she would
have given her some viva voce exemplifications
of the law of kindness, which should have been
of a nature to astonish her.

"I suppose it's good for children, the stick,
and all that," the lady added, musing. "It did
me a torrent of good, to be sure. It made me
love everybody so. There," she cried, giving
her body a sudden wrench, as though she
wished to rid herself of an unpleasant theme of
thought, "I dare say you're too frightened to
tell the truth while your schoolmistress is near.
Please to have her dressed, and I will take her
out for a walk."

The last part of her speech was addressed to
Miss Barbara, and the governess thought it
high time to make a stand upon it.

"Madam," she said, with freezing politeness,
"Miss Floris was placed here, three
years and a half since, by two gentlemen who,
in confiding her—then almost an infant—
to our charge, strictly stipulated that she was
never to leave it, save under direct instructions
from—"

"Monsieur Jean Baptiste Constant," the
lady interposed, and, for a wonder, very coolly.
"I know all about that. M. Constant is the
agent for Miss Floris's guardian, and M.
Constant pays her school-bills every year."

"Precisely so," Miss Barbara returned.
"Therefore, without instructions from M.
Constant—"

"You wouldn't let her go: at least you'd say
you wouldn't, although, if I chose, I'd have
the child out of this house, if fifty dragoons with
drawn swords stood at the door to oppose it.
But what nonsense all this is. Do you know
the handwriting of M. Jean Baptiste
Constant?"

"Perfectly well, madam."

"Then read that: get the child's hat and
pelisse on, and let me hear no more about it."

She opened a pretty reticule, all velvet and
golden beads, and flung rather than handed to
Miss Bunnycastle a note written in M.
Constant's remarkably small and neat handwriting,
in which, with many compliments to the amiable
Madame and Mesdemoiselles Bunnycastle, he
requested them, in all respects, to obey such
directions as should be given to them in respect
to Miss Lily Floris, by Madame la Comtesse de
Prannes, that young lady's nearest female
relative.

"The letter, I see, is dated Paris," Miss
Bunnycastle replied, after reading and re-reading
the note, but still with a certain amount of
hesitation.

"Whence else?" returned the lady, with
impetuosity. "He being in Paris. M. Jean
Baptiste Constant is ill. He is in bed. He
has an aneurism."

"And you, madam?"

"You are very inquisitive. I am Miss Floris's
nearest female relative. I am Madame la Comtesse
de Prannes. There is my card, which I
gave to your dirty slut of a servant. Would
you like to know anything else? Where I was
born? When I was baptised? At what age I
made my first communion?"

The last straw broke the camel's back. The
Bunnycastle had borne, though with much
inward raging, with all the discourtesy of the
strange lady, but that allusion to her neat-
handed Phillis as a "dirty slut" was too much
for her. She cast M. J. B. Constant's letter
from her, and, with a heightening colour,
exclaimed:

"I won't let the dear little child go. I don't
know who you are, or what you mean. Your
manners are most insulting, and unless the
gentlemen come themselves to fetch Miss Floris, or
M. Constant sends a messenger who knows how
to behave herself, the darling shan't go. Do
you want to go, Lily?"

The subject of this controversy, simply
reasoning that the strange lady frightened her, and
that she was very fond of Miss Bunnycastle,
and, moreover, that it was decidedly preferable
to be called a darling than a brat, replied, her
little heart palpitating violently, that she was
very happy where she was, and that she didn't
want to go away with anybody.

"I thought so!" Miss Barbara exclaimed,
triumphantly catching the child to her. "A pretty
thing, indeed, to be tutored and domineered over
in one's own house. You have your answer,
madam, and I must wish you a good morning."
And she made as though she would have
rung the bell to have the importunate visitor
ushered out.

But Miss Barbara Bunnycastle reckoned
without her host. The strange lady rose in a
rage.

"You devil!" she cried. Such language in a
genteel establishment for young ladies! "I will
have the child. Do your worst. I say she
shall go with me. You madwoman, go and ask
your mother and sisters, and they will make you
listen to reason. Call in the police, if you like,
and see what a charming figure your school will
make in the journals. Go, idiot, and take
advice."

She set her teeth together, and glared at Miss
Barbara as though she would devour her. The
schoolmistress was fairly appalled. Was the
lady mad? Something must be done, and on
reflection she concluded that the best thing she
could do was to consult Celia and Adelaide.
The front gate was fast locked, and the lady
would hardly be so desperate, she thought, as
to scale the iron railings. But how to leave her