Old Kensington

me yet, an

s protract

t bunch of flo

s of Apri

in the little glass in the workbox, but she would run away if she heard any one coming, and hastily plait up her coils. The plain-speaking and rough-dealing of a household not attuned to the refinements of more sensitive natures had frightened instead of strengthening hers. She had learnt to be afraid and reserved. She was timid and determined, but things had gone wrong with her, and she was neither

ence. You could hear the birds chirruping in the garden all the time Lady Sarah was reading aloud. There were low comfortable seats covered with faded old chintz and tapestry. There were Court ladies hanging on the walls. One wore a pearl necklace; she had dark bright eyes, and Rhoda used to look at her, and think her like herself, and wonder. There were books to read and times to read them at Church House, and there

ral enough. Unless, as Rhoda was, they are constitutionally delicate, boys and girls don't want to bask all day long like jelly-fish in a sunny calm; they want to tire themselves, to try their lungs; noise and disorder are to them like light and air, wholesome tonics with which they brace themselves for the coming strug

s liberally dispensed. John Morgan would rush in pale, breathless, and over-worked; in a limp white neckcloth as befitted

hn, dear,' cri

n. 'Why, George! come t

hes would go. The vine was straggling across the panes, wide-spreading its bronzed and shining leaves. The sunlight dazzled through the

s ailments and misfortunes that are to be balanced in the scales of fate by proportionate rolls of flannel and calico. Good little Cassie Morgan feels never a moment's doubt as she piles her heaps-so much sorrow, so many petticoats: so much hopeless improvidence, so many pounds of tea and a coal-ticket. In cases of confirmed wickedness, she adds an illuminated text so

s Mrs. Morgan: 'Bonk

h that poor wife of his and all those children. I have to go round to

little children,' and she looks up flushed and all over ravellings a

ks are lying, with pamphlets, blue books, black books, ro

s, and put our statistics away with satisfied consciences. John Morgan wrote articles from a cold and lofty point of view, but he left his reports about all over the room, and would rush off to the help of any human being, deserving or undeserving. He had a the

a tangle of leaves and tendrils. The garden had been planted by the different inhabitants of the old brown house-each left a token. There was a medlar-tree, with one rotten medlar upon a branch, beneath which John Morgan would sit and smoke his pipe in the sun, while his pupils construed Greek upon the little lawn. Only Carlo was there now, stretching himself comfortably in the dry grass (Carlo was one of Bunch's puppies, grown up to be of a gigantic size and an unknown species). Tom Morgan's tortoise was also basking upon the wall. The creaking noise went on after the chimes had ceased, and George jumped out of window on to the water-butt to see what was the matter. He had forgotten the swing. It hung from a branch of the medlar-tree to the trellis, and a slim figure, in a limp cotton dress, stood clinging to the rope-a girl with a black cloud of hair falling about her shoulde

g. 'I am wasting my time. Please do

What a silly child you are

hoda, looking down. 'I am very s

is hands in his pockets. 'I'm us

d any one cared for me,' said Rhoda, with tea

ybody cares for everybody. Dol

and brightening suddenly, and putting back all her cloudy hai

cept that she said Rhoda ought to have answered when her aunt ca

to the piano. He made a little tune he called 'The Swing,' with a mi

eorge, you must have a cathedral some day, a

y well for Morgan, who is desperately in love. He has often told m

during Lady Sarah's absence), had been installed general confidante and s

,' he went on, shutting up the piano and coming to the table where

he money is lost,' said Dolly. 'I am afraid it will no

' says George, looking

nt to marry on

indifferently. 'I shall marry o

liked one particular place by the fire, from which she could look down the room at the two heads that were bending tog

ut prudence in marr

harply, at which George starts up offended an

lly, go to him,' she said, in answer t

ir path; soft winds blew everywhere, scattering light leaves; the summer's light was in the day, and shining from the depth of Dolly's grey eyes. The two went and sat down on the bench by the pond, the old stone-edged pond, that reflected scraps of the blue green overhead; a couple of gold-fishes alternate

prised. 'He is staying with his grandmother at the Palace, but they don't give

d Dolly, lo

ould patronise people both younger and older than himself with equally good intentions. George's early admiration for his cousin I fear is now tinged with a certain jealousy of which Robe

room, Robert, with harps on all the doors, and yellow sofas, and such a lovely, lovely view

ust like a man of the world. 'My grand