length of the principal street of the town, loitered at Grinstead’s for half-an-hour, and wound up by Lady Harriet’s calling on the Miss Brownings, who, to her regret, were not at home.

“Perhaps it’s as well,” said she, after a minute’s consideration. “I’ll leave my card, and put your name down underneath it, Molly.”

Molly was a little puzzled by the manner in which she had been taken possession of, like an inanimate chattel, for all the afternoon, and exclaimed—“Please, Lady Harriet—I never leave cards; I have not got any; and on the Miss Brownings, of all people! why, I am in and out whenever I like.”

“Never mind, little one. To-day you shall do everything properly, and according to full etiquette.”

“And now tell Mrs. Gibson to come out to the Towers for a long day; we will send the carriage for her, whenever she will let us know that she is strong enough to come. Indeed, she had better come for a few days: at this time of the year it doesn’t do for an invalid to be out in the evenings, even in a carriage.” So spoke Lady Harriet, standing on the white doorsteps at the Miss Brownings’, and holding Molly’s hand while she wished her good-bye. “You’ll tell her, dear, that I came partly to see her—but that, finding her asleep, I ran off with you, and don’t forget about her coming to stay with us for change of air—mamma will like it, I’m sure—and the carriage, and all that. And now good-bye, we’ve done a good day’s work! And better than you’re aware of,” continued she, still addressing Molly, though the latter was quite out of hearing. “Hollingford is not the place I take it to be, if it doesn’t veer round in Miss Gibson’s favour after my to-day’s trotting of that child about.”