"You must find time to visit our school and almshouses, and that will make you feel still more at home!" said Doctor Parnell, kindly. "We have plenty of poor people here, as everywhere else. There is a poor woman down at the Cove, who was brought to bed last night, and is but poorly off for clothes. If you will mention the case to my Lady, perhaps she can do something for them." "I will," said I: and just at that moment a plan popped into my mind, which I hope to bring to good effect. Mistress Parnell would have had me stop at the Rectory and take some refreshment, but I excused myself, knowing that Betty would count the hours and minutes till my return, and hastened toward home by the shortest path. I stopped a moment at the entrance of the glen walk, to gather some wild flowers for my child, when Mr. Corbet overtook me and walked the rest of the way by my side. He asked after Betty, and sent her a kindly message, and told me his mother was coming to Exeter in the Bishop's company to-morrow, and that he should meet her there, and bring her home. "That will be pleasant to you," I said. "I want you to know my mother," said Mr. Corbet. "She is one of a thousand. Nobody ever knew her without being the better for it." "I think nobody can be like one's mother!" I said, and then I stopped and choked, and had much ado not to burst out crying, as I thought of my own dear mother, and how last Easter we were all together—father, and Dick, and all! Mr. Corbet took no notice of my emotion, and presently began talking of other things. He asked me if I had noticed that tall old man in church? I said I had, and asked who he was. "That is old Uncle Jan Lee!" replied Mr. Corbet, smiling. "Uncle to half the village and all the Cove. He sailed with my father around the world, in Franky Drake's expedition, and can tell you tales by the hour about those times. He and his nephew, Will Atkins, have been my sworn friends ever since I could run alone, and I owe them far more than my own life. I will tell you the story some day—though perhaps I had better not," he added, with his sudden smile, which lights up his grave face at times like a flash of sunshine. "It would not be wise in me to do so, for the tale does not tell very well for me, and I should be loth to lose your good opinion, Mistress Merton." I don't see what my good opinion has to do with him. I am only a poor parson's daughter, and a governess, to make the very best of my position. However, we had a very pleasant walk, and I must say I have felt better and happier since than I have done for a long time. I suppose the long walk in the fresh air may have something to do with the matter, for I do miss the exercise I was used to take at home. I went up to my child, and was glad to hear Mary say that she had been very good. But the tears came to the poor thing's eyes as she kissed me. "I wish I could go to church!" said she. "I do get so tired of this room all the time!"