When, two years before, the Reverend John Mainwaring became Vicar of Garstone, the inmates of the Grange had made advances to the new-comers, had petted the pretty Betty and invited the elder boys to fish and shoot during the holidays. But the vicar and his wife soon took alarm, and, while striving to maintain an appearance of perfect good-will, discouraged the intimacy between the younger members of the families, until the proud Braithwaites, seeing at last through the civil excuses and regrets, drew back suddenly and held themselves as far aloof as Mrs. Mainwaring could wish. The intimacy thus abruptly checked had never been renewed, and, although the members of the two families greeted each other without apparent ill-will when by chance they met, there was no cordiality on either side--the Grange laughed at the Vicarage as “slow,” the Vicarage shuddered at the Grange as “fast.” The interest the latter took in the prim little Vicarage girls and their brothers had died out long since, while, on the other hand, the “wild Braithwaites” had an ever-increased secret attraction for the clergyman’s family. Joan and Betty were more constrained than usual when accident brought them face to face with any of the handsome Braithwaite boys, and they both in their hearts sat in judgment upon their parents, and thought that a policy of conciliation would be a much more Christian way of treating the scapegraces. And each of these demure and somewhat stiff maidens began, as she left the schoolroom, to think she saw signs of redeeming grace in one of the Grange lads, and to feel that she would like to have a hand in his reform. So that, when Miss Lane--who, however prim and staid her manner might be, was undeniably a very pretty girl--was carried off before their eyes by one of their wicked neighbors, and taken to the interesting Grange, feelings which their simple-minded mother never dreamed of mingled with the indignation Joan expressed. Betty was silent, but inclined to be tearful. The Mainwarings were a somewhat stolid race, and meals at which no stranger was present were very solemn feasts indeed. On this occasion tea-time was passed in dead silence--even Marian and Bertram, the two youngest, scarcely dared kick each other under the table. When they all rose, a tear was rolling down Betty’s fair cheek. Her mother caressed her anxiously, fearing that the excitement of the solemn vows she had made that day had proved too much for her. Betty gave way. “Oh, how that Miss Lane must be enjoying herself at the Grange!” she cried bitterly. CHAPTER II.