"Is Mr. Rayne not the very impersonation of goodness itself, Nanny dear?" said Honor. She was standing with her back to the door, watching her old nurse undoing their valises, when she uttered this exclamation. "Come now, Honor, spare a fellow when he's right behind you," said the good-natured voice of the person thus eulogized. Honor started around, looking very pretty in her confusion. "I thought 'listeners never heard well of themselves,'" said she in a pout, "but this time it seems to be reversed." "And you won't take it back for all that," said he, "the oldest of us likes a little praise now and then, you may as well let me keep it." "Oh yes indeed, Mr. Rayne, you may have that little bit, for you know how good you are and how kind to me." "Well, that will do after tea, but just now we will give our attention to something more substantial; come Honor--come Nanette." "Don't wait for me sir," the old nurse answered respectfully, "I'll find Mrs. Potts in the kitchen and we'll sip our tea together there." Henry Rayne looked quickly at Honor and detected the slightest shadow of a disappointment flitting across her face, this decided him. "It is my intention that you and Potts will not be quite such good friends," he said, "I am sure that Honor would rather you made the tea at our table." "Don't appeal to me," Honor answered as she met his enquiring glance, "it is superfluous, you always anticipate my wishes. I've never drunk another cup but the tea Nanette made." "Nor shall you, so long as we are spared a happy trinity," cried Henry Rayne, "so let's be off, I cry--to tea--to tea--to tea." CHAPTER III. The Autumn clouds are flying, Homeless over me, The homeless birds are crying, In the naked tree. --_George Macdonald_