in the year, Frank found a playfellow and
friend in the little daughter of the clergyman,
a blue-eyed child, something less than a year
his junior.

The rectory was not a quarter of a mile
from the gates of Sir Edward's park ; and
Mr. Birkby, the rector, was a distant relative
of the Irwins ; so the intimacy of the children
was quite natural ; and whenever his mamma
was busy—whenever Agnese was cross—
whenever, in short, anything happened to
disquiet him at home—away ran little Frank,
to forget his trouble in the company of
Kitty Birkby ; and many a sunny afternoon
did they sit together, under the large
apple-tree, in the orchard, or in the
shadow of the old cedar, making daisy
garlands, and mingling their hearts in innocent
prattle.

Frank was a great hero to Kitty.
Frank went to London and to all kinds of
places with long names, which he knew quite
well, and could repeat as easily as she could
repeat the names of the field and hedge flowers.
Frank went to the theatres, where he saw all
sorts of wonderful things, which he described
to her with indefatigable patience. There
was not a marvellous feat of harlequin that
she was not familiar with ; and she even
dreamt of the fairy—in pink, with silver
wings—who always came down in a chariot,
drawn by peacocks, just in time to save the
prince and princess from the deep-laid plots
of the cruel ogre with green hair, a bulbous
nose, and a cavernous mouth, who had
announced it to be his intention to dine off the
prince, and promote the little trembling
princess to the honour of Mrs. Ogress. O,
with what eloquence did he describe, to the
round-eyed, eager auditress, the final scene
of the drama, when the fairy, having made
the prince and princess happy, and consigned
their wicked aunts and uncles to well-merited
punishment, ascended out of mortal ken,
seated on a many-coloured cloud, which
seemed heavily charged with electricity,—a
mode of travelling highly unpleasant to any
one but a fairy, but which, of course, afforded
her unalloyed delight, as she took care to
communicate to the prince and princess that
they must expect nothing further from her :
it being her intention to retire into private
life, among the stars, where she (very rationally,
as the world goes), did not wish to be
disturbed.

By the time he had related the story six
or seven times to Kitty, Frank became so
enamoured of it, that he conceived the bold
idea of acting it ; he was to be the prince,
Kitty the princess, and Sara, her nurse, a
particularly solid young woman, the fairy ; the
other dramatis personae might be imagined.

Kitty took very kindly to being the princess ;
she stuck a flower in her hair ; sat herself
down on a bank, and pretended it was a throne ;
but when Frank tried to induce her
to personate the agony of a princess when
her lover was torn away from her by the
savage ogre, here represented by a crabbed
old tree, he was almost discomfited. Very
much urged, Kitty rushed fiercely up to the
tree, and beating its knotty stem with her
chubby hands, cried, "Naughty ogre, take
away my prince !" It was in vain that
Frank explained the truculent nature of the
ogre, and the timid character of the princess.
This, however, was nothing in comparison to
the trouble he had with Sara, who was always
deeply engaged in reading a dilapidated copy
of the Old English Baron, in devouring sour
apples, or darning stockings, when she was
required to make her graceful descent upon
earth.

But there were other things which Frank
delighted to impart to Kitty : the grand
mystery of hic, haec, hoc, in which he was, at an
early age indoctrinated ; yet Kitty was no
prodigy, at five years old she hardly knew
her letters ; and if any one had told her that
the earth was like an orange, flattened at the
poles, she would have opened her blue eyes in
most profound astonishment. Like Frank,
she had lost her mother in her infancy, and
was in great measure dependent on a maiden
sister of her father, who resided with him,
and who loved her dearly. But Miss Selina
Birkby was now in the winter of her days,
and having spent the prime of her life in the
dreary state called, in derision, single blessedness,
she knew no more of the rearing and
training of children than a day-labourer,
accustomed to no sort of horticulture but
the sowing of turnips, might be supposed to
know of the rearing of delicate exotics.

Kitty, nevertheless, had a most charming
little countenance, which changed from smiles
to tears with the rapidity of an April day. She
was a great favourite with Sir Edward Irwin,
who liked to take her on his knee, and to play
with her soft curls ; but she never pleased
Lady Irwin—perhaps because the sight of her
wakened the memories of her own lost little
girl—perhaps from the increasing jealousy of
her disposition, which nothing seemed too
small, nothing too innocent, to excite. She
wondered what Sir Edward and Frank could
see to interest them in a little creature neither
remarkable for beauty, nor distinguished for
intelligence; and Kitty, for her part, had an
instinctive dread of Lady Irwin ; she was
ilmost completely silent in her presence, and
approached her only with effort and
unwillingness.

But if her instinct led her to avoid Lady
Irwin, it operated yet more strongly in the
case of Agnese. The child absolutely trembled
if Agnese touched her ; and once, when
she insisted on kissing her, she was almost
convulsed with terror. Agnese, as may be
imagined, was not slow to repay dislike with
dislike. She chose to believe, that, being the
child of an ecclesiastic, Kitty was peculiarly
under the ban of Heaven ; for, though destitute
of anything like true religion, she clung