“No, it is great girls who are that,” struck in Mr. Black; and he laughed at his own wit so long and loudly, that Lally stood looking at him in astonishment. “Well, little one, and what are you staring at?” inquired Mr. Black, at length noticing that Lally had opened not merely her eyes but also her mouth as wide as possible. “Oo,” was the immediate reply. “Oh! indeed; and what do you think of me now you have stared?” he asked. “I think ’oo like Doe Cole,” replied Lally, nothing abashed at public attention being directed to her. “And who may Joe Cole be?” persisted Mr. Black; but no one seemed disposed to afford him the information he desired. “Who is this Joe Cole that I resemble?” repeated Mr. Black, looking round the circle, and especially at Bessie, who had her face buried in her pocket-handkerchief. Round the circle, too, looked Lally. “He’s a fool,” she explained, evidently desirous of enlightening Mr. Black’s ignorance. Alick had raised a warning finger too late; out came the sentence in the middle of a dead silence; and then Bessie burst into a perfect scream of laughter; while Arthur, in angry tones, exclaimed, “Take that child away, somebody. She’s not fit to be among civilised people.” “Ought to be whipped, and sent to bed,” volunteered Mrs. Ormson. “Poor little thing traced some fancied resemblance,” urged Mrs. Black, as an extenuating circumstance. “She is completely ruined,” said her father; and as the child passed him, led off the field by Bessie, he struck her, for the first time in his life, a smart blow, which caused Lally to break forth into a perfect paroxysm of grief. In one moment Bessie had her in her arms, and faced round on the Squire. “I never had a greater mind to do anything than box your ears, Arthur,” she remarked. “I shall say you are like Joe Cole next;” and with that Miss Ormson swept away from the group, followed by some of the younger Dudleys, who were unanimously of opinion the matter was to be kept from Heather. “I am so sorry, Bessie—oh! I am so sorry,” said Agnes Dudley. “And so am I that all these people are here,” Bessie answered. “They will spoil Arthur among them, not that, goodness knows, there is much to spoil about him.” “It is always the same whenever Mr. Black comes,” continued Agnes. “I can remember how we used to dread the very sight of him or your mother entering the gates. I suppose I ought not to say it, Bessie, as she is your mother; but she always made things worse for us here, at least we thought she did.” “Don’t let the fact of her being my mother prevent your expressing your opinions,” said Bessie, who, seated on the floor in the nursery, was engaged in striving to comfort Lally. Most sincerely she hoped and believed Heather was, at that moment, closeted with Mrs. Piggott; but Heather happened to be in an adjoining room, and, hearing the sound of Lally’s exceeding bitter grief, came in to see what could be the cause of it.