"I’m afraid I can’t walk," she was obliged to confess, with white, quivering lips, just as Mr. Howell appeared upon the scene. "How now, young lady?" he said, in his bluff way; "not trying to walk, surely? You don’t look any too fit." "Couldn’t me an’ you help her out to the carriage, Bob?" his wife said, in a somewhat loud aside. "Her grandma wants to be off." "If the young lady will allow me, I think the best plan will be for me to pick her up and carry her out," he said, with a grandiloquent bow. "Really, I cannot----" began Mrs. Beauchamp, in horrified tones. And Monica said: "Oh! no, please." But without more ado, the big burly man lifted her gently in his strong arms, saying, with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes: "It won’t be the first time to-day, missy," and before Mrs. Beauchamp had had time to summon Barnes, Monica was comfortably settled in the brougham, with her injured ankle resting on a board, and some cushions, which Barnes’ forethought had provided. "Thank you ever so much, Mr. Howell," said Monica gratefully, "and Mrs. Howell too." "Tut, tut, missy! T’was a pleasure to her to have some one to coddle." "I should like to come and see her some day, when my ankle is well again, if I may." "She’d be very glad if you would," was Mr. Howell’s reply, as he handed Mrs. Beauchamp into the carriage, and shut the door after Barnes had squeezed herself into the tiny bit of space that was left. "I am sure we are very much indebted to you for all your kindness," said Mrs. Beauchamp, in her freezingly polite way, as he stood, hat in hand, waiting to see the carriage off. "Pray don’t mention it, madam," was all he said, as he bowed in response to her formal "good evening"; the smile that overspread his rugged, good-tempered face was for the girl who nodded a bright farewell, albeit her face was white and drawn with pain. "A noble lass, that," was Mr. Howell’s comment, as he sauntered round the beautifully laid-out garden with his worthy spouse; "but a vixen of a grandmother, to judge from looks." Mrs. Howell, who had not been very prepossessed herself, felt it her duty to remonstrate with him for judging hastily. "The gentry always has such airs," she said; "I daresay the old lady means well enough. But I must say I did take to the girl." "And she to you, apparently." And her husband repeated what Monica had said about coming again. "Bless her!" ejaculated warm-hearted Mrs. Howell; and then she added wistfully, "I wish, Bob----" "What, old girl?" "That our Lily was a bit more like her." "Tut, tut!" he said. "This Miss Beauchamp is a lady, born and bred; and our girl ain’t got a drop of blue blood in her veins." "Our Lily don’t seem to have got no heart, somehow," sighed her mother. "She’s all for clothes, an’ pleasure, an’ pleasin’ herself."