a sight of it reach her, we are aufully afraid of that about the poney getting to old keens ears for thered be the dickens to pay, yours affectionately "DICK. "p s leo sends his love and he hopes you wont be angry with him for breaking his arm and I am writing this after school at twelve instead of playing, Good buy." Sara smiled, in spite of herself, as she folded up the letter. But she thought it rather a wonder there had not been a few broken legs among the "6," instead of one broken arm. She got ready for Mrs. Cray, and went down to the dining-room. Miss Bettina was gone out then. She took up a book, but had not been looking at it many minutes when she saw Neal coming up the street talking to a young person whose condition in life it was rather difficult to guess. In these days of _dress_ it is difficult. She had a pretty face, Sara could see that, though a veil covered it; her gown was one of those called a "washing silk"--and very much "washed out" it seemed to be; and a smart shawl, just flung on the shoulders, trailed on the ground behind. But for this trailing shawl and a sort of general untidiness, there would have been something superior about the girl. In the face she looked like a lady, and Sara had seen many a lady worse dressed. Sara, behind the blind, could see them, but they could not see her. Neal stood a moment at the door, and then looked down over the railings of the area. "Are the ladies out?" he asked. "Yes," came back for answer in Dorcas's voice. The woman evidently did not know that Miss Sara had not accompanied her mistress. "You can come in then," Sara distinctly heard Neal say to the lady--if lady she was. And he opened the door with his latch-key. They stood talking in the passage for some little time in an undertone, and then Neal took her into the back room. It opened to the dining-room with folding-doors; but the doors were always kept closed: and indeed the back room was chiefly used as Neal's pantry. Sara, who at first had been doubtful whether it might not be a visitor to herself, came to the conclusion that it was only a visitor to Neal, and she resumed her reading. But the voices grew rather louder; and the words "Captain Davenal" caused her to look up with a start. No wonder she should start at that name, remembering the past. A sudden fear same over her that something or other connected with that past was again threatening her brother. She could not hear more, for the voices dropped again to their covert tone. Another minute, and Neal was conducting the stranger to the front door. "We shall hear more by the next mail; but there's not the slightest doubt he's married," Sara heard him say as he passed the room. "The lady is an heiress: a Miss Reid." "Well," cried the other voice, "I'll have satisfaction. I'll have it somehow. I don't care what punishment it brings him to, I'll have it."