"I am very sorry," he answered, "but they have not touched your kitten, have they?" "In another instant they would," smiled the Mayflower, holding her pet tightly in her arms. "What a pretty creature it is," said John Temple, now stroking the kitten's striped head, whose large eyes were wide open with terror. "Yes, isn't he a beauty?" answered the Mayflower. "Poor Jacky! and would the naughty dogs have eaten you?" Jacky looked as if he decidedly thought that they would, and clung to his mistress' white frock, who soothed and comforted him. The Mayflower certainly was a lovely creature as she stood thus, with her fair head uncovered. She had been sewing in the summer house; trimming a white straw hat, and ribbons and flowers lay strewn about, and as a man of taste John Temple found it impossible not to admire so pretty a picture. "Is your father in the house?" now asked the squire. "He was in the garden five minutes ago, looking at the apple trees," replied the Mayflower. "Shall I call him, Mr. Temple?" But at this moment Mr. Churchill, the farmer, was seen advancing toward them, as he had heard in another part of the garden the squire and John Temple calling back their dogs, and now came to see what was the matter. He took off his low-crowned hat when he recognized the squire, but Mr. Temple held out his thin hand to his favorite tenant. "Well, Mr. Churchill, how are you?" he said. "I have brought my nephew to see you; my nephew--and now my heir." His voice faltered a little as he said the last few words, and a look of respectful sympathy passed over the farmer's brown face. "Glad to make your acquaintance, sir," he said, looking at John Temple with a pair of very intelligent gray eyes. Altogether he was a good-looking man, and was, moreover, an excellent farmer. He had gone with the times, and instead of grumbling at the price of corn and foreign competition, grew on his land the crops he found to sell best. He was a great breeder of horses also, and his stud was quite a famous one. He was also a keen man at a bargain, and prosperous. He had married a lady in a superior social position to himself, whom he had won by his good-looking face, and he had given his only daughter Margaret Alice Churchill (the Mayflower) an excellent education. Mrs. Churchill had died two years ago, but as yet he had taken no second wife, so May, as she was always called at the farm, was the mistress of the house. He had two other children, both schoolboys, and Willie Churchill (the second boy) had been one of the players in the fatal game of football when poor Phil Temple, the little heir of Woodlea, had met his death. The squire knew this fact, but no particular blame had been laid on the boy. A rush had taken place, and the little heir had fallen, and it was said to be impossible to tell who had given the actual kick or blow that had destroyed Phil Temple's life.