"But yet—but yet—but yet, my darling,"
said Mrs. Saxelby, holding her daughter to her
breast, "how I wish you could make up your
mind to think favourably of Clement's suit!
Good Heavens, to think of the girls who would
give the world for such an offer!"

"Mamma, I will tell you something that may
help to reconcile you to my refusal. Besides
the injustice I should do Clement Charlewood
were I to marry him without really loving him
enough, I have reason to believe that I
should also be injuring his worldly prospects.
From some words that Penelope once said to
me—and Penelope speaking on such a subject
would weigh her words, you and I know—I feel
sure that a marriage between his son and a penniless
girl like myself, would so anger and disappoint
Mr. Charlewood, as to make a serious
difference in Clement's circumstances. Perhaps
Mr. Charlewood might even disinherit him."

"I don't believe it, Mabel; and, besides, I
was not thinking of the money only."

But, nevertheless, as Mabel had said, the
suggestion did help to reconcile Mrs. Saxelby
somewhat to her daughter's decision.

CHAPTER XI. DOOLEY EXECUTES A TERRIBLE
THREAT.

MABEL allowed no time to be lost before
replying to her aunt's letter. She decided to
start for Ireland at the end of April, which was
now only ten days distant, and had calculated
that she should thus have six weeks with her
aunt in Dublin, to make preparation for her
first attempt at Kilclare. When once the
letter was written and despatched, Mrs. Saxelby
appeared to become more reconciled to the idea
of Mabel's going. "Though what," she said,
with a sudden qualm of remembrance, "Though
what, my dear, will Miss Fluke say about it!"

The mother and daughter were sitting at
work, engaged in some ingenious contrivance
for making "auld claes look amaist as weel's
the new;" and Dooley, perched on the window-
sill with the kitten in his lap, was studying
a picture alphabet with a thoughtful brow.
At the mention of Miss Fluke, he looked up
quickly. "Miss Fook's very naughty," said
Dooley; "she made mamma c'y. I s'all 'mack
Miss Fook!"

"Dooley!" urged his sister, in feigned amazement,
though she had much ado to keep a grave
countenance, so irresistibly absurd was the
notion of Dooley engaged in inflicting condign
chastisement on Miss Fluke. "Dooley, what
shocking things are you saying? Come here
to me, sir. Why, I declare I don't know you.
Is this my own good little brother, this angry,
frowning boy?"

The child's face was crimson, and he had
clenched his small fist in his wrath.

"I s'all 'mack Miss Fook if she makes mamma
c'y," he repeated, with great determination.

"Don't say any more just now, Mabel,"
whispered Mrs. Saxelby. "Go back to the
window, Julian, and learn your lesson. I shall
expect you to know F and G when I call you.
The fact is," she continued, when the child had
obeyed her and was deep in his book again,
''the fact is, I want him to forget all about the
scene. I never saw him so excited as he was
after Miss Fluke went away the other day."

"I think I should have been inclined to be
excited too," said Mabel, with flashing eyes.
''Do you really mean to say that that woman
made you shed tears, mamma?"

"Hush. Yes. You know, my nerves are
not strong; and I was worried and lonely;
and she took me by surprise; and she was so
loud, and so vehement! Oh, Mabel, it was
terrible, I assure you. You don't know how
dreadful she can be. It is quite impossible to
cope with her."

"I should not think of trying," replied Mabel,
with a disdainful lip; "I should simply withdraw
my attention, and let her rave unnoticed."

"Good gracious, Mabel! Withdraw your
attention? Short of putting cotton wool in
your ears, there is no possibility of withdrawing
your attention from Miss Fluke when once
she begins in earnest. Besides, I don't like to be
openly rude to her, for I can't help feeling that
she means it all for my good."

"It's a very amiable feeling, mamma. But
I take the liberty of doubting whether Miss
Fluke is a better judge of what is good for you
than you are yourself."

"I say, missus!" exclaimed Betty, opening
the parlour door and putting her head inside the
room mysteriously, "here be Miss Fluke a-comin'!
I were a carryin' some pig- wash out to the sty,
when I seed her three fields off, a-comin' along
the path. She do stump along at a rate. I
thought mayhap you'd like to have warnin',"
added Betty, ingenuously. "I allus do lock
my workbox up from her now. She bates all
for curosity, does Miss Fluke."

"Oh dear, oh dear," said Mrs. Saxelby,
absolutely turning pale, "what shall we do?"

"Dear mamma, don't distress yourself. If
you dread seeing her so much, go to your own
room, and let me speak with her. I will say
you are not equal to seeing her to-day; and
that will be true enough."

Mrs. Saxelby could not repress a sigh of relief
at this proposition.

"But," she said, hesitating, "it seems so
cowardly to leave you to face her alone."

Mabel laughed with almost childish enjoyment.
"Oh, don't mind me, mamma," she said,
with the irrepressible high spirits of youth
dancing in her eyes. "I am not a bit afraid."

"Ain't you indeed, my dear?" said Mrs.
Saxelby, regarding her daughter with a kind of
wistful admiration. "Ain't you indeed?" And
then she stole quietly up-stairs, and Mabel
heard the door of her bedroom softly shut, and
the bolt drawn.

Betty's irreverent phrase expressed Miss
Fluke's method of locomotion very graphically.
She did "stump along at a rate." And many
seconds had not elapsed after Mrs. Saxelby's
retirement to her own room, when Miss Fluke's
martial tread was heard resounding on the