"Fee-fo-fum," for he sometimes called Jack by that charming _sobriquet_, indeed, he was always inventing names for her, "it is too hot for work, isn't it? I think I must give you a holiday, for I want Esther to go out with me." Uncle Geoffrey's wishes were law, and I rose at once; but not all my secret feelings of relief could prevent me from indulging in a parting thrust. "I don't think Jack deserves the holiday," I remarked, with a severe look at the culprit; and Jack jerked her hair over her eyes this time in some confusion. "Hullo, Fee-fo-fum, what have you been up to? Giving Esther trouble? Oh, fie! fie!" "I only kicked the table," returned Jack, sullenly, "because I hate lessons--that I do, Uncle Geoffrey--and I inked my fingers because I liked it; and I put my elbows on the copy-book because Esther said I wasn't to do it; and my hair got in my eyes; and William the Conqueror had six wives, I know he had; and I told Esther she had a pain in her temper, because she was as cross as two sticks; and I don't remember any more, and I don't care," finished Jack, who could be like a mule on occasions. Uncle Geoffrey laughed--he could not help it--and then he patted Jack kindly on her rough locks. "Clever little Fee-fo-fum; so William the Conqueror had six wives, had he? Come, this is capital; we must send you to school, Jack, that is what we must do. Esther cannot be in two places at once." What did he mean by that, I wonder! And then he bid me run off and put on my hat, and not keep him waiting. Jack's brief sullenness soon vanished, and she followed me out of the room to give me a penitent hug--that was so like Jack; the inky caress was a doubtful consolation, but I liked it, somehow. "Where are you going, Uncle Geoff?" I asked, as we walked up the High street, followed by Jumbles, while Jack and Smudge watched us from the door. "Miss Lucas wants to see you," he returned, briefly. "Bless me, there is Carrie, deep in conversation with Mr. Smedley. Where on earth has the girl picked him up?" And there, true enough, was Carrie, standing in the porch, talking eagerly to a fresh-colored, benevolent-looking man, whom I knew by sight as the vicar of St. Barnabas. She must have waylaid him after service, for the other worshipers had dropped off; we had met two or three of them in the High street. I do not know why the sight displeased me, for of course she had a right to speak to her clergyman. Uncle Geoffrey whistled under his breath, and then laughed and wondered "what the little saint had to say to her pastor;" but I did not let him go on, for I was too excited with our errand. "Why does Miss Lucas want to see me?" I asked, with a little beating of the heart. The Lucas family were the richest people in Milnthorpe. Mr. Lucas was the banker, and kept his carriage, and had a pretty cottage somewhere by the seaside; they were Uncle Geoffrey's patients, I knew, but what had that to do with poor little me?