away from the gaieties of town, which she was thoroughly enjoying, by any complaint of hers, which might, after all, be ill-founded; and yet she did not quite like being without a companion in the three weeks or a month that might intervene before her family would join her at the Towers, especially as the annual festivity to the school-visitors was impending, and both the school and the visit of the ladies connected with it had rather lost the zest of novelty.

“Thursday the 19th, Harriet,” said Lady Cumnor meditatively; “what do you say to coming down to the Towers on the 18th, and helping me over that long day. You could stay in the country till Monday, and have a few days’ rest and good air; you would return a great deal fresher to the remainder of your gaieties. Your father would bring you down, I know; indeed, he is coming naturally.”

“Oh, mamma!” said Lady Harriet, the youngest daughter of the house—the prettiest, the most indulged; “I cannot go; there’s the water-party up to Maidenhead on the 20th, I should be so sorry to miss it; and Mrs. Duncan’s ball, and Grisi’s concert; please, don’t want me! Besides, I should do no good. I can’t make provincial small-talk; I’m not up in the local politics of Hollingford. I should be making mischief, I know I should.”

“Very well, my dear,” said Lady Cumnor, sighing; “I had forgotten the Maidenhead water-party, or I would not have asked you.”

“What a pity it isn’t the Eton holidays, so that you could have had Hollingford’s boys to help you to do the honours, mamma. They are such affable little prigs. It was the greatest fun to watch them last year at Sir Edward’s, doing the honours of their grandfather’s house to much such a collection of humble admirers as you get together at the Towers. I shall never forget seeing Edgar gravely squiring about an old lady in a portentous black bonnet, and giving her information in the correctest grammar possible.”

“Well, I like those lads,” said Lady Cuxhaven; “they are on the way to become true gentlemen. But, mamma, why shouldn’t you have Clare to stay with you? You like her, and she is just the person to save you the troubles of hospitality to the Hollingford people; and we should all be so much more comfortable if we knew you had her with you.”

“Yes, Clare would do very well,” said Lady Cumnor; “but isn’t it her school-time, or something? We must not interfere with her school so as to injure her, for I am afraid she is not doing too well as it is; and she has been so very unlucky ever since she left us—first her husband died, and then she lost Lady Davies’ situation, and then Mrs. Maude’s, and now Mr. Preston told your father it was all she could do to pay her way in Ashcombe, though Lord Cumnor lets her have the house rent-free.”

“I can’t think how it is,” said Lady Harriet. “She’s not very wise, certainly; but she’s so useful and agreeable, and has such pleasant manners, I should have thought any one who wasn’t particular about education would have been charmed to keep her as a governess.”

“What do you mean by not being particular about education? Most people who keep governesses for their children are supposed to be particular,” said Lady Cuxhaven.

“Well, they think themselves so, I’ve no doubt; but I call you particular, Mary, and I don’t think mamma was; but she thought herself so, I’m sure.”

“I can’t think what you mean, Harriet,” said Lady Cumnor, a good deal annoyed at this speech of her clever, heedless, youngest daughter.

“Oh dear, mamma, you did everything you could think of for us; but you see you’d ever so many other engrossing interests, and Mary hardly allows even her love for her husband to interfere with her all- absorbing care for the children. You gave us the best of masters in every department, and Clare to dragonise and keep us up to our preparation for them, as well as ever she could; but then you know, or rather you didn’t know, some of the masters admired our very pretty governess, and there was a