Miss Fluke turned herseif askew to pull from
her pocket—as if she were drawing a cork—a
note which ran as follows:

"My dear Friend. In reference to the matter
you have been urgent about, I am glad to say
that I think I can place the young lady, Miss
Earnshaw, in a school here as a pupil teacher. The
establishment is conducted on principles of the
strictest piety, and Mrs. Hatchett is a person
enjoying the confidence of many highly respectable
families in the neighbourhood. Miss Earnshaw
would be required to instruct seven junior
pupils in music; to hear them read; to
superintend the condition of their wardrobes; and to
assist the French governess in her conversation
class (you tell me Miss Earnshaw is well
acquainted with the French language). In return,
she would be allowed to profit in her leisure
moments by the instruction of the masters who
attend the school. And Mrs. Hatchett would
consent to give a salary of ten pounds per
annum to begin with. Let me know your
friend's decision as soon as possible; for if she
accepts, she would be required to enter on her
duties without delay. Remember me to your
father and sisters, and believe me always, my
dear friend,

                                "Yours faithfully,
                                          "B. LUBBOCK."

Poor Mrs. Saxelby's face grew very long.
"Dear me," she said, dolefully, "it's a miserable
sum to offer."

"Mrs. Saxelby!" exclaimed Miss Fluke,
making the waterproof cloak crackle loudly in
her energy, and shaking a little shower of rain
over the carpet. "My good soul, consider
the advantages! All the different professors'
lessons, and strict piety!"

"Mamma," said Mabel, taking her mother's
hand, "indeed it is quite as good as I looked for."

"Ten pounds a year!" urged Mrs. Saxelby.
"It seems to me worse than nothing at all."

But Mabel thought that even ten pounds a
year was decidedly better than nothing at all;
and after some further conversation, it was
agreed that she should at least make the trial,
and that Miss Fluke should write to thank her
friend and say that Mabel would be ready to go
to Eastfield by that day week.

"That will give me a few days at Hazlehurst,
mamma, to see you and Dooley comfortably
installed in the cottage."

In spite of her courage, her heart sank within
her; but she spoke cheerfully and hopefully.
Then Miss Fluke said "Good night," and went
to the front garden-gate to wait for the omnibus.
As soon as its wheels were heard in the distance,
and long before it came within sight, looming
through the wet murky night, Miss Fluke
planted herself at the edge of the footpath, and
hailed the driver by calling out "Stop!" in a
loud threatening voice, suggestive of highway
robbery. So she got in, and was driven away
back to Hammerham, leaving Mabel and her
mother to rest with what peace of mind they
could under their altered circumstances.

The week passed away very quickly,
unbroken in its busy monotony by any incident.
The family at Bramley Manor, though not so
active in their manifestations of friendship as
Miss Fluke, had yet been kind. Mrs. Charlewood
had written a note—or rather Augusta
had written it at her mother's request—to say
that she would abstain from intruding on the
widow for a while, until she should be settled in
her new home, but that she would drive out and
see her in a few days, and that they all sent love
to Mabel, and best wishes for her prosperity."

"I wonder, though," said Mrs. Saxelby,
"that none of the family should have come over
to say good-bye to you."

Mabel said no word; but the recollection of
Penelope Charlewood's insinuation made the
hot blood rush into her face. The sudden
calamity had naturally diverted Mabel's mind
from dwelling on Miss Charlewood's words; but
now, her thoughts reverted to them with much
unpleasant feeling, and she began to debate with
herself whether it were possible that she could
have been mistaken as to their purport?

"It does seem so utterly absurd," said Mabel,
using almost the self-same words as those in
which Clement had characterised a similar
accusation. "And yet Penny must have had
some meaning. Had it been Augusta, I should
have thought nothing of it; but Penny is not
apt to talk at random. Can they, any of
them, seriously suppose that I——," and the
thought which she would not even mentally put
into words, made her heart beat, and brought
tears of anger and mortification into her eyes.

As Miss Charlewood's keen observation had
taught her, Mabel Earnshaw was intensely proud.
Hers was no aggressive haughty arrogance that
strove to override or trample upon others, but
it was a silent self-sufficing pride, the existence
of which was little suspected by many who knew
her. And the thought of being subjected to
such a suspicion as Penelope had hinted at was
intolerable to her. Fortunately, occupations for
the present, and plans for the future, prevented
her mind from dwelling morbidly upon it.

The family from Jessamine Cottage removed
to Hazlehurst with such modest store of
furniture as was absolutely necessary. Mrs.
Saxelby was installed with a small servant-girl
from the village, as her only attendant, and
Dooley had already plunged with delight into
all the muddiest places within reach. He
had been told that his sister must go away
for a time, and had appeared to take the
information quietly: holding his mother's hand
clasped tightly in his small fingers, and looking
steadfastly into her face with compressed lips.
But that same night—the first of their sojourn
at Hazlehurst—when Mabel was putting him
into his little bed in his mother's room, he
flung his arms around her neck, and burst into
a passion of sobs and tears.

"Darling Dooley, my pet, my dear dear
boy," said his sister, holding him to her breast,
"what is the matter, my own little brother?"

"Oo—oo is doin' away," sobbed Dooley.