“Yes, and there must be a great deal of good in the man or woman whom everybody likes. Speaking of the Cherub, here comes the flutter of his wings,” he added, as Bertie’s voice was heard in the lane. “There is some one with him. It is my aunt,” said Olivia, as Miss Amelia’s falsetto was heard joining with Bertie’s. The next moment they came around the corner. “Oh, here is Olivia!” said Miss Amelia. Then she pulled up short, with a little, affected start at sight of the tall, handsome man. Bertie came forward with his usual eagerness. “We have been looking for you, Olivia,” he said, his eyes dwelling on her with the light that always shone in them. “And I told Miss Amelia this would turn out a sure find. Good-morning, Faradeane!” Miss Amelia gave another start, and coughed nervously. “This is my aunt--Miss Vanley!” said Olivia. “This is Mr. Faradeane, aunt.” Miss Amelia bent her head. “Delighted, I’m sure!” she simpered in the conciliatory voice which old ladies use to dogs and dangerous characters. “Quite a--a--pleasant surprise.” Mr. Faradeane bowed, with the suspicion of a smile flickering under his mustache. “I’m sure we are all very much indebted to Mr. Faradeane for his heroic rescue of Bessie Alford, very much so--ahem!” and she coughed again. “I hope it will prove a lesson to her. All these things, if properly viewed, are sent for our good.” “Mr. Faradeane was certainly sent for Bessie’s, on this occasion,” said Olivia, strangely irritated by her aunt’s half-suspicious, half-irritating manner. Bertie, with his usual promptitude, cut in to set matters on an easier footing. “I’m glad to hear Bessie’s better. I called as I was going up to the house. And now, Olivia, I’ll bet you two to one in Dent’s best that you don’t guess what Miss Amelia wants me to do.” “May I have three tries?” said Olivia, with a smile. “Something good and laudable, I am sure,” said Faradeane. Miss Amelia’s gaze softened, and she bridled and smiled. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Faradeane,” she simpered. “Is it to subscribe to the Mothers’ Sewing Club?” said Olivia. “No,” said Bertie. “To teach in the Sunday-school. No?” as Bertie shook his head. “To give the pug or the canary a dose of medicine?” “No!” he cried, triumphantly. “You’ve lost. I take large nines,” and he held out his tiny fist. “Miss Amelia’s modest request is that I should give a reading at the forthcoming village entertainment.” Olivia laughed. “I’d forgotten the entertainment,” she said. “My dear Olivia,” murmured Miss Amelia, solemnly, “you should never be weary of doing good.” “I do too little to be anything like weary,” said Olivia. “Of course you have consented, Bertie?” He made a gesture of mock horror.