worn very thin and pointed. On this with some difficulty he contrived to raise a portion of the crumbling dainty and deposit it safely on the plate, but so awkwardly that Harry shouted,

"Look out, you'll have it in the slop-basin next."

"Yes, such a thing has happened before, Mr. Lindsaye," said Hetta, laughing at his dismayed look. "I assure you it is a service of difficulty to help the tea-maker to girdle cake, especially when it is newly made."

It struck Edmund Lindsaye that there was a great deal of noise and chatter. It was perhaps only natural with such a large party of children and young people; not that the children by any means absorbed the whole conversation, but they were under no restraint before their father, and talked to him and each other freely and openly about the doings of the day; and Mr. Ansley instead of trying to check the stream of talk, seemed to be enjoying it, and was listening with great apparent interest to the boys' account of the fishing they had had that afternoon.

Directly after tea there was a rush of the younger branches of the family to see a robin's nest, lately discovered in the shrubbery, whilst their elders returned to the drawing-room. Jack was busy talking about Oxford, and Mr. Ansley's questions and remarks soon showed Edmund that he was evidently a deeply read and clever man; an isolated country parish, poverty, and the cares of a large family had not, as is too often the case, impaired his mental energy, and at the age of sixty-five he was active, simple-minded, contented, and happy as he had been forty years before. No disappointment was expressed at Jack's third class degree; all the family knew he was not naturally clever, and his father felt assured "his lad" had done his best, and desired no more. Edmund Lindsaye himself, with his first class, wished for no warmer reception at home, no, nor expected one half so cordial,—but then the Lindsayes were never a demonstrative family.

Presently Jack asked his sisters for some music, and here Edmund Lindsaye was agreeably surprised. The Ansleys had never had the opportunity of hearing, still less of buying, the newest drawing-room pieces, instead whereof they played Haydn and Mozart, pieces which belonged to their mother when a girl, and although the setting and arrangement might be old-fashioned, and the Miss Ansleys' playing somewhat deficient in execution, still they had contrived to seize upon and express the spirit and ideas of the old masters. Afterwards they

sang Scotch and English ballads; and Edmund Lindsaye was quite surprised when bed-time came, so quickly and pleasantly had the evening passed away.

His room was a tiny little cupboard of a place, with only strips of carpet; the bed, a painted deal washstand, and a rush-bottomed chair completed the furniture; but the window was open, and moonlight came floating in on the fresh hay-scented air, giving a sense of peacefulness and calm to Edmund after his tiring day.

CHAPTER II.

WHEN Edmund came down stairs the next morning, a few minutes before the breakfast hour, he opened the drawing-room door, and beheld Eleanor, looking very bright and pretty in her fresh morning dress, dusting the tables, chairs, books, &c. His first impulse was to apologise and retreat, the next moment he felt that to have done so would have been ungentlemanly, for Eleanor caught sight of him, and greeted him in such a free unembarrassed manner as showed she had not the least feeling of shame at her occupation being discovered. He advanced into the room, and stood talking for some little time, while she busily continued her work, changing the cotton duster for an old silk handkerchief with which she carefully dusted the few ornaments on the chimney-piece, some old bits of china pieced and cemented in many places.

There," she exclaimed, as a clanging bell sounded just as she had finished, "I am rather late with my dusting this morning," and she ran away hastily to wash her hands, whilst Edmund joined the rest of the party in the dining-room. The merriment and chatter of the night before was renewed at the breakfast-table.

Afterwards every one dispersed their different ways,—Mr. Ansley to his study, Hetta to the school, Jenny went away with her mother, and the younger children trooped off under Maud and Eleanor's escort. Jack invited Edmund to come out for a stroll in the village, but as the former stopped to speak to every man, woman and child he met, Edmund grew rather tired, and returned to the house. He looked into the drawing-room, but no one was there excepting Maud who was giving one of her younger sisters a music lesson. So he went to his room, took out some of his books, and retreating under a shady tree on the lawn, there commenced reading, until roused by

Jack coming up chaffing him for having got his books already. Although," he added laughing, "it is something of a change to see you stretched full length on the grass, instead of sitting with your elbows on the table."

After dinner the children rushed off to the hayfield, and Edmund, Jack, and two of the boys went down to the river to fish, when the former's superior skill excited the boys' admiration.

In the evening the whole party joined in Proverbs, word stories, thread paper verses, and similar games; and Edmund who had been inclined to look upon such things as childish, was amazed at the zest with which even Mr. Ansley entered into them. He himself had a headache and was feeling tired; he had not fully recovered from the fatigue and strain on his mind caused by several previous weeks' hard reading, and the chatter and laughter jarred upon him; totally unaccustomed to games, he felt himself dull over them, and was glad when bedtime came, for he was conscious the Ansleys must consider him stiff and spiritless.

Two or three days passed in the same way; very different from anything to which Edmund Lindsaye had been accustomed was the free and easy life in that large family, with a strain of fun and bante: continually going on which almost irritated him, unable as he felt to join in it.

In spite of the frankness and cordiality of every member of the family, the only two with whom he was really quite at ease were Mr. Ansley and the youngest child, a pretty fair little thing of three years old, who still went by the name of " Baby." She, on her part, with the usual penetration of children soon discovered Edmund Lindsaye's real love for the species, and tyrannised over him in the prettiest manner imaginable, trotting after him, shouting "Mitta Inda" whenever she caught sight of him, and he was always ready to carry her about on his shoulder, lift her up to peep into birds' nests, or show her his gold repeater.

With Mr. Ansley he soon learned to enjoy a conversation, respecting his shrewd sense and keen argumentative powers, whilst the old man was pleased to find a young man so deeply read and with such a clear, powerful mind as Edmund Lindsaye evidently possessed. But although he tried to make himself agreeable to the Miss Ansleys, he could never succeed in getting on well with them. They were so different from other young ladies he had met with, that he did not know

what to talk to them about. They had never been to London, so he could not discuss the picture galleries and other national sights. They had not read the latest books, and he knew little about the subjects which interested them,-old women, school children, animal pets, or wild flowers, so he left off trying to converse with them and observed them instead. He soon found out that they by no means led an idle life; indeed, with such a large household and only two servants, a good many of the little domestic duties fell upon the girls, and they each had their part to fill, for their mother had brought them up to be thoroughly useful. Hetta was quite her father's right hand in all parish work; it was she who managed the lending library, and kept the accounts of the clothing club, and the school register, performing all her duties with quietness, method, and neatness peculiar to herself. Maud was perhaps the "ornamental" one of the family. She was generally the one chosen to accompany her mother on the rare occasions when she paid visits; it was she who did all the company playing and singing, and who had pretty bits of fancy work ever on hand. She was also rather inclined to shirk roughing it, and used to long after little luxuries and refinements, the wish for which never occurred to the others, and for these few " fine lady" tastes, as they called them, she was unmercifully quizzed by her brothers; but this and the never varying good temper with which she always bore the chaffing, as well as the wholesome atmosphere of her home, had prevented her aspirations from merging into discontented repinings, and her natural indolent, easeloving disposition from deteriorating into a selfish, useless one. Jenny was the practical matter-of-fact housewife; good at plain needlework, and deft in the store-room and kitchen. Eleanor, or Nelly, as she was generally called, had no special duties, but took part in all. For instance, she was the sister Maud selected to play duets with her; the one Jenny always called to her aid when her appointed task of patching and mending exceeded her powers. If Mr. Ansley thought Hetta at all overdone by her work in the parish, he would say, "Get Nelly to help you with so and so, dear, she knows nearly as much about it as you do." In fact she seemed to be at everybody's beck and call; always ready, bright, and capable, but undertaking every task put upon her so cheerfully, that it was difficult to guess what her own pursuits would have been if left to herself. Edmund once hazarded a few remarks upon the subject when Nelly in reply to some

of his queries regarding her tastes had answered innocently enough that one or other of her sisters followed each of the pursuits he named, she could not.

But have you no special tastes of your own?" Nelly looked up, only half comprehending. "I mean," he said, "you tell me your sisters do these things, but I think you do most of them as well."

"Oh, yes. Of course I generally help them when they want me.” "But you do not care to undertake these studies for their own sakes, only because your sisters wish for your assistance ?" Nelly still looked puzzled. 'You seem to me," he went on gravely, " to be able to pursue most studies and accomplishments, &c., up to a certain point, but only for the sake of others; you do not care really to excel in any of them," and here Edmund broke off, colouring hotly, for he fancied he had transgressed the rules of courtesy, an intolerable idea to him, in making such personal observations; but Nelly free from pride, answered gaily,

“I think I see what you mean. Jack of all trades and master of none! Well, perhaps that is rather my way; but then you see I never had any special gifts, and in that case one can only aspire to be useful to others in filling a second place."

There was perhaps a touch of fun in Nelly's voice as she said these last few words, but Edmund did not perceive it, and was disappointed to find Nelly, whom he was rather inclined to like on account of her bright sunny manner, as he considered superficial and indifferent. Those were faults which he himself could not comprehend, for as Jack Ansley often said laughingly, “Lindsaye was so terribly in earnest about everything."

The next day was Sunday, the first one since Edmund's arrival at Needthorpe, and he rather wondered how it would be spent there. When he came down stairs in the morning he saw the little girls carrying out huge jars of flowers.

"What are those for ?" he inquired.

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"These? oh, for the old people's dinner table," said one. 'Maud and Nelly arranged them last night: are they not pretty?" and she held up for his inspection a large bowl filled with roses, larkspurs, and tall white lilies.

"What are you going to do with them now ?" "To put them out on the table. Will you come to look at them ?" Edmund Lindsaye followed the children to where a long table was