"Yes, so they do; but it is less important for them than for boys." "I do not know, I am sure, whether it is. If women could more easily keep accounts, and liked arithmetic better, I think there would be less waste in many families than there is at present." "Very possibly. Indeed, I do not think girls' schools are at all what they ought to be."

"Why not?"

"Because girls are not taught the things which they most need to learn."

"I beg your pardon, I think my girls are."

"Indeed! But they are not taught cooking, are they?" "No; but they learn domestic economy."

Theoretically?"

"Yes, we cannot yet teach them the practical part of it, though I, for one, would much like to see that introduced into the regular school work. But I do not see how it could be managed. Fancy a hundred girls busy at making puddings."

"I should not like to eat the puddings, but I should have no objection to see the girls do the work."

"I am sure it is necessary. The Bolstone working-classes believe in early marriages, and I have no doubt that many a girl begins housekeeping without knowing how to cook a dinner or

make a shirt."

That is a very bad state of things. But I suppose you can remedy the second evil if not the first."

"I do the best I can; but it is not easy in a large school to teach girls the art of cutting out."

"What beautiful order you have."

"Oh, no. My school is no better in this respect than all schools ought to be."

"Are the girls troublesome ?"

"They are very much like other girls, but I really think the boys are worse than the average. Soon after I came here, I took the liberty of keeping for a few minutes after school a little girl who had been restless and disorderly. She wanted to go home when the others did, but I told her she should remain ten minutes later. 'I will tell my big brother,' she said. 'I will not have you speak,' said I, with a little smile at her hope of alarming me with the threat of her big brother, and I kept her five minutes longer for having spoken. In the evening when it was getting dark, I went out for a walk upon the downs. I don't know if you have been to Heighton Hill, but near the top is a pit that has been dug out for some purpose. I waited for a moment to look into this pit, when my shoulder was suddenly seized and a fierce face thrust almost close to mine. Remove your hand from my shoulder,' I said, to the owner of the face, a tall, strong lad, about eighteen or twenty years old. 'Not I,' said he; 'I'm going to throw you down this hole!' I am not usually timid, but I confess that I was a little frightened, for the lad looked very wild. I tried to speak quietly, however, and endeavoured to move a little distance from the pit, but he was stronger than I. What do you want to do that for?' I said. 'Because you kept my little sister in!' said he.”

"It was the big brother, then ? "

"Yes, and I reaily think he would have thrown me down if some men had not passed at the time."

"I am afraid the Bolstone boys are not very hopeful."

"They are not, indeed. I will give you another proof. When these schools were first built, Mr. Seagrave, a gentleman who takes great interest in the boys of the town, held an eveningschool for those who could not come in the day. He was very

kind to them, he gave his time and money in the hope of doing them good. and they were most ungrateful and troublesome in return. One evening when the snow was on the ground he offended them in some way, and they actually locked him in the school-room and kept him there all night."

"Could he not make the people living around hear?"

"I do not think he tried very much. He wanted to win the boys by his patience and forbearance; and, besides, it is possible that he could not be heard, for there were no houses close by the school then as there are now. He, however, made himself as comfortable as he could for the night, and resolved to remain there until they let him out in the morning. When the morning came, the lad who had taken the key opened the door. 'You can go now,' he said, and I hope you will know better than to oppose us another time.' Mr. Seagrave said a few gentle words of expostulation and prepared to go home, but about a dozen boys were waiting outside by a heap of snowballs, with which they pelted him as soon as he showed himself at the door."

"I hope the boys are a little improved since that time."

"I think they are not quite as bad as they used to be, but I am afraid you will find them rather troublesome even now."

"I cannot help wishing that I had been a pupil teacher. I have really had so little practice."

"That is unfortunate; but if you have any aptness for the work, you will soon feel at home in it. You must remember that you are master, and make the boys feel it. I am sure that is the first step to take."

"I have taken that to-day, and I do not intend to lose the advantage that I have gained. But my great wish is to win the love and esteem of the boys. I want them to trust me that I may the better influence them."

First, you must You must be very You must exact

"Yes, but you can afford to wait for that. make them feel and submit to your authority. strict, and then you will not need to be severe. from every one of them instant, unquestioning, and unhesitating obedience. Secure that, and then treat the boys firmly, justly, and kindly, and the love and esteem you want are certain to follow."

Arthur looked at Miss Fernwood with respect not unmixed with wonder. She was a gentle English maiden, with a soft though clear voice, a smiling face, and a figure not by any means tall or imposing, and yet there was just that reposeful strength in her, that made her a suitable leader and instructress for several hundred girls.

"Do you ever have any insubordination among your subjects?" he asked.

"Never," she replied.

"But it is possible, is it not ?"

Scarcely possible, since I should instantly detect and punish the slightest approach to disobedience."

"I cannot imagine your wielding a cane, and inflicting summary punishment on an offender."

"Neither can I," she said, with a smile. "I have never in my life so far forgotten myself as to strike a child."

"Then how do you punish them?"

Generally, by means of a look; but sometimes by a few strong

words."

Arthur was increasingly interested in his companion. "I shall feel that I have accomplished a great thing when my boys can be punished by a look of mine," said he.

"That will not be all at once," replied Miss Fernwood.

Arthur thought that in the meantime it would be exceedingly pleasant frequently to pass an hour in the evening with his fellowteacher. It seemed to him that very good times were coming. He would be engaged all day in the work that was the dearest to him; and when the work was done, he would spend as much of his leisure as he might in the companionship of the young lady who had already secured both his esteem and gratitude.

From his pleasant dreams, however, he was suddenly roused. A child's voice, piteously calling his name, was heard outside the house. He sprang to his feet and opened the door. There, trembling and weeping, stood Mr. Winterset's little daughter. "Oh, Arthur," she said, lifting both her hands in wistful appeal to him.

Why, May, darling, what is the matter ?" he cried, in astonishment. "What can have brought you here so late and alone?" The child clung to him, and he put his arms around her. "Tell me what it is, May."

"Mamma's heart is

"Oh, it is dreadful trouble," she said. almost broken, and I know no one can comfort her but you. I cannot tell you more.

Come, and see."

And without another word Arthur Dalebury went with the child.

CHAPTER IX.-A NIGHT OF PAIN.

Little Nellie was ill.

Is any sight so sad as that of a little child in pain?

From the quiet talk which he had been holding with his fellowteacher on half-indifferent subjects, Arthur Dalebury went to a scene that was full of agony and dread. In a moment Miss Fernwood and her good advice were forgotten, the school which had so tried him all the day floated out of his memory, and nothing remained but one thought. Here was an opportunity of doing something to repay the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Winterset, for they were in trouble, and had sent for him.

Mr. Winterset met him on the threshold.

We

"Oh, Dalebury, it is kind of you to come, but my wife knew you would. That child, though, ought not to have fetched you. shall have her ill next."

"Oh, no; I have kept her warm. And now you must to bed,

go

my little May; and be very good so as not to cause mamma any further anxiety."

"No; I do not want to go to bed, Arthur. It always comforts mamma to have me with her. Indeed, she says so."

"But not to-night, my darling; and besides, it will distress you to be up."

"Must I go, papa ? "

"Yes, child. If you do not, I am sure you will be ill, too, and then there will be trouble enough."

"Kiss me, dear papa;" and the little trembling lips were lifted to meet her father's kiss.

"Good-night, papa. Good-night, Arthur." "Good-night, my child."

"Arthur, will you promise me something?"

"Yes, I will if I can. What is it you want?"

"I want you to promise that you will call me if there should be a change, and if dear mamma should want me."

"What should she want you for, May? You would be only in the way," said her father.

"No, indeed, papa, I would not," said the child, her eyes filling with tears.

"I will promise you," said Arthur; and May was content. "Go into the nursery, Dalebury," said Mr. Winterset.

Arthur was almost alarmed as he heard the dreadful sounds proceeding from it.

"What is the matter?" he said, as Mrs. Winterset wildly caught his hand.

"Oh, Arthur, I am afraid our darling will die! Is it not dreadful?"

"Is it the croup?"

"Yes."

Dear little Nellie opened her large eyes, and looked upon him. "Cannot you do something for me?" said the child's eyes. "Let me hold her a minute until the doctor comes."

"Do, while I get the bath. Lionel cannot stay in the room, it grieves him so much to see the child suffer."

"Has the doctor been ?"

"Yes; and he is coming again soon. I am so afraid the child

will be choked."

Indeed, Arthur feared so too. A very common complaint it was that had smitten Mrs. Winterset's darling; but it is never other than terrible to witness its effects. The child was hot and feverish, and very frightened. The noise that she made alarmed her, and grieved those who were with her; and when a fit of coughing came on she was nearly strangled. Then the little one was put in a hot bath, and after an hour of suffering she fell asleep in her mother's "Do

arms.

"Let me take her while you rest," Arthur whispered. you not know how I nursed May one night when she was vaccinated ?"

But the mother held her darling closely in her arms. "May's life was not in danger, but Nellie's is," she whispered.

The nurse sat dozing by the fire, and Mrs. Winterset and Arthur watched together.

The house was very silent for some time, but then a strange noise was heard below.

Mrs. Winterset looked pale and distressed.

"Shall I go down and see what it is?" he whispered.

"Arthur," she said, "I know we may trust you. You will keep whatever you see and hear to yourself?"

Certainly," said Arthur, grieved beyond measure at the distress which he saw in the face of the gentle lady who had ever been kind to him.

"Then go down and do the best you can," she said.

Arthur did not know what he expected to see as he descended the stairs, and tried to be prepared for any surprise.

"Why have you come down?"

The voice startled him, although the next moment he recognised it as that of Mr. Winterset.

"Mrs. Winterset sent me," said Arthur, calmly. do for you?"

"What can

"You are young and strong, and not timid," said Mr. Winterset, "and perhaps you can help me.

Look here!"

I

As he spoke he opened another door, and, looking in the room, Arthur saw a deplorable object with matted hair and glaring eyes, who seemed ready to spring upon Mr. Winterset.

"Who is this?" inquired Arthur.

"I do not know," said Mr. Winterset.

"You lie!" cried the man, springing to his feet. "You know well enough who I am, and what I want. Give it me, or I will proclaim it abroad that you are a swindler and a thief, a robber of poor men, and an enemy of your own flesh and blood."

Mr. Winterset looked alarmed, though he spoke as calmly as he could; but it was Arthur whom he addressed, and not the man. "Is it not dreadful that a thing of this sort should have happened just as there is so much trouble upstairs?" he asked him. "I assure you, Dalebury, that I do not know this man, and yet he came here to-night, and before my wife, and in the quiet of my own room, denounced me as his bitter enemy and persecutor." "And so you are," said the man, savagely.

"What shall I do with him, Arthur?”

"Send for the police," said Arthur, in a quiet tone. It was not so quiet, however, but that the man heard it.

"He dare not do that," he said.

it as long as he lived if he did."

"I would make him sorry for

"What do you want?" said Arthur.

"I want my rights. I want a large sum of money."

"But what for?"

"He knows what for."

"Excuse me, Mr. Winterset, have you any idea what the man

means ? "

"Not any more than you have."

"Then, sir, I am sure that you should send for the police. If he has any claim. let him prove it in the proper way."

"So he shall."