"Oh, no, certainly not," said Julia; "but I am sorry. Give our kind love to her, Sage, and say we will drive over to Lewby some day and see her there." "Thank you, Miss Julia," said Sage, and she gladly saw the school visitors depart, with the intention of going on to the ford. Sage sighed as she stood at the door and saw the sisters get into the handsomely appointed carriage that was waiting, and then she wished that she had asked them when they were going back to London, for it seemed to her that both she and Rue would feel happier and more at ease if the Mallow family were gone. Then she recalled her last meeting with Luke at home, and his words upon learning--short conversation interrupted by her aunt--that there was to be no engagement until he had realised a better income than would accrue from the schools. "That does not matter," she said, brightening up. "Luke is so brave and determined, and has such spirit, that he will soon become rich enough for us to marry, and, of course, we can wait." There was no impatience in Sage's love for Luke Ross. She told herself that she was very fond of him, and some day they would be man and wife, but when did not seem to her to matter, and she busied herself once more, light-hearted enough, with the children. Then came the beginning of another train of thought, and there was once more a slight flush in her cheeks as her mind turned to Cyril Mallow, his coming to the school with his father, his meeting and speaking to her once or twice when she was leaving school, and then, too, of his coming to the farm to sit, and smoke, and talk with her uncle. The colour deepened in her cheeks a little more as she thought of all this; but, directly after, she drove these thoughts away, and busied herself with the conclusion of the morning lessons. Twelve o'clock, and the buzz and hurry of the dismissal, and then the pleasant scent of the cool outer air as the windows were thrown open, and again the bright elasticity of feeling as, well wrapped in warm furry jacket and with her natty little, not-too-fashionable hat setting off the freshness of her complexion and youthful looks, she started for her brisk walk along the lane and across the field to the farm. She had to pass Mrs Searby's cottage on her way, where that worthy woman with upturned sleeves was standing at the open door in converse with another of the mothers whose children attended the school. "Good-morning," said Sage, as she passed them, and the second woman returned the salutation; but Miss Searby's mamma replied by giving her an uncompromising stare, and saying aloud before the young mistress was out of hearing-- "Ah, she's going to meet young Cyril Mallow. Nice goings on, indeed, for one like her."