held up his head and thought himself above the minor canons. In this one nook of the grounds a few private individuals congregated--it is not necessary to mention them all; but the rest of the houses were mostly occupied by the prebendaries and minor canons. In some lived the widows and families of prebendaries deceased. Looking to the left, as Georgina Beauclerc stood at the deanery window, just beyond the gate that inclosed the grounds on that side, might be seen the tall red chimneys of the Palmery. It was, perhaps, inside, the worst of all the larger houses; but the St. John's came to it often because they owned it. They (the St. John's) were the best family in Westerbury, and held sway as such. Mr. St. John had died some years ago, leaving one son, about thirty years of age, greatly afflicted; and a young little son, by his second wife. But that young son was growing up now: time flies. Georgina Beauclerc's great blue eyes, so clear and round, were fixed on one particular spot, and that appeared to be one rather difficult to see. She had her face and nose pressed against the glass, looking toward the college schoolroom, a huge building on the right of the deanery, just beyond the cloisters. "They are late again!" she exclaimed, in a soliloquy of resentment. "I wish that horrid old Wilberforce was burnt!" "Georgina!" The tone of the reproof, more fractious than surprised, came from a recess in the large room, and Georgina turned hastily. "Why, when did you come in, mamma? I thought you were safe in your bed room." Mrs. Beauclerc came forward, a thin woman with a somewhat discontented look on her face, and a little nose, red at the tip. She had long given up all real rule of Georgina, but she had not given up attempting it. And Georgina, a wild, spoilt child, was in the habit of saying and doing very much what she liked. She made great friends of the college schoolboys, and had picked up many of their sayings; and this was particularly objectionable to the reserved Mrs. Beauclerc. "What did you say about Mr. Wilberforce?" "I _said_ I wished he was burnt." "Oh, Georgina!" "I _do_ wish he was scorched. It has struck one o'clock and the boys are not out! What business has he to keep them in? He did it once before." "May I ask what business it is of yours, Georgina? But it has not struck one." "I'm sure it has," returned Georgina. "It has _not_, I tell you. How dare you contradict me? And allow me to ask why Miss Jackson quitted you so early to-day?" "Because I dismissed her," returned the young lady, with equanimity. "I had the headache, mamma; and I can't be expected to attend to my studies when I have _that_." "You have it pretty often," grumbled Mrs. Beauclerc; and indeed upon this plea, or upon some other, Georgina was perpetually contriving, when not watched, to get rid of her daily governess. "My opinion is, you never had the headache in your life."