Little Tammie had been tied up as well as it was possible to keep him comfortable, but the poor little fellow was very wet notwithstanding, and was getting weary and sleepy as he trudged along the road. Helen had insinuated him between the banker and herself, and so he was protected by the wonderful umbrella, and moreover had his thumb to suck consolation from, which melancholy pleasure the hapless Jeanie, walking on Helen’s other side, and laboriously gathering up her torn, wet frock, and thinking of what her mother would say, was quite deprived of. “You seem fond of children, Miss Buchanan,” said the formal banker, after a considerable pause. Helen began to forget the speciality of the case, in that this perplexed man was William Oswald’s father. She did not like, so sensitive and easily moved as she was herself, to see any one ill at ease beside her. “I like them,” she said, frankly, “perhaps it is because I spend so much of my time among them; but I like their company.” “And does it never weary you?” said the curious Mr Oswald. Helen paused a moment--a sort of half-remembrance of the mood in which she left the school-room that day just floating like a cloud over the spirit which had shaken out its wings and was up again, singing in mid-heaven. “We all weary sometimes,” she said; “but I not more, I think, than others. It is pleasant to work, and my own work, I fancy, is pleasanter to me than any other would be.” Mr Oswald was a good deal astonished; he did not quite know how to answer so honest a statement, for the good man had taken it for granted that the young schoolmistress must be very sick of her labour, and eager to escape from it, which indeed she was not, except sometimes, when her wayward moods were upon her. “I did not know that you knew Hector Maxwell,” said Mr Oswald, awkwardly; “do you admit those rude boys to your liking as well as the little girls, Miss Buchanan?” “Hector Maxwell is not rude,” said Helen. “He is a genuine boy, and a great friend of mine. Yes, indeed; I like them all very well, until they become young gentlemen and young ladies.” “And what then?” said the banker. “And then I become a little afraid of them, and they do not suit me any longer,” said Helen, smiling, as she paused at an open door, where the mother of Jeanie was looking out anxiously for her little truants. “I thank you, Mr Oswald; good-night.” CHAPTER V. Is she not proud? doth she not count her blessed, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? ROMEO AND JULIET.