So that, when George Braithwaite came on to the ground, in dutiful attendance upon his mother and sister, a rapid inspection of the tents soon convinced him that his opportunity was come. He knew better than to set to work with Harry’s clumsiness. He went up to the Mainwaring children, talked to them a little while without taking any notice of the governess beyond raising his hat to her, and then drew Mrs. Mainwaring’s attention to a plant which he said had a strange history, which she must ask the owner to tell her, insinuated a compliment to lean pink-eyed Joan, and talked to mother and daughters for some time in what he considered his best manner. And then he told Bertram, whose hand he held all the while, that there was “a grand gentleman” making a speech in another of the tents, and asked him if he would not like to see him, and then asked the two younger girls if they would not like to go too; and they all thought they should like to go anywhere with this nice, kind gentleman, and they all said, “Yes.” Then Mr. Braithwaite was afraid he could not take them all three across without their getting wet, but said to the elder of the two small girls: “Ask your governess to take you under one umbrella, and I will take care of these two little ones.” And the nice, kind gentleman ran off with Bertram and Marian, directing Miss Lane to follow with Ellen. But when, through the rain, they reached the long, damp tent where the people were crowding round a narrow deal-table to listen to the speech which an insignificant-looking little gentleman, standing in the mud, was delivering in a very low, monotonous voice, the little ones were disappointed; and Bertram said he did not look grand at all, in a voice much louder than the speaker’s. But George still pushed him benevolently forward through the crowd, until, by civil words and strong shoulders, he had managed to get all three children quite close to the table, where they could “hear Lord Ben Nevis distinctly” as he whispered. Then he dropped unselfishly into the back row of the crowd himself, and joined the governess. “You will get your feet wet standing in all this slush,” said he. And he found a board for her to put her feet on, and a box for her to sit on, and then stood bending down to talk to her with courteous attention which would have brought tears of envy to Joan’s eyes, had she seen him. “What a shame of them to drag you out in the rain,” said he sympathetically. “Oh, no!” she answered, smiling. “I am glad to be dragged anywhere, in any weather, as a change from the musty old school room.” “I suppose you are. I can’t imagine how any girl can become a governess.” She looked up at him in pathetic surprise. “I don’t suppose any girl likes to be a governess; but there is nothing else for her if she is poor.” “Oh, yes, there is--there’s the Thames!” “But you wouldn’t recommend that, surely?”