"You talk as though I were somebody, and not a poor governess, Miss Cunningham. I hope it is not beneath a clergyman's daughter to teach the children of honest people. It is not the work, it is the motive that ennobles the worker," cried the girl, turning on her young adviser with burning cheeks, and her eyes suddenly shining. "If I teach the children of the poor, I remember that I am poor myself. I shall not be ashamed of my position, or forget that my mother was a lady. I cannot forget what is due to myself or her, or to Emmie's mother, who brought me up, and made me what I am." Dora raised her pretty eyebrows in some surprise; this little burst of sentiment perplexed her. "I did not know you were such an impulsive character, Miss Marriott. You remind me of Flo a little, it is just her way of breaking out when she is lectured; not that I am presuming to lecture you," with an amused look; "I am only offering you advice and assistance. Miss Drake and I used to have long talks, did we not, Langley? and settle all sorts of things. She was a very ordinary person, and a little commonplace, I must confess, but she was always ready to take advice." "I fear you will not find me quite so submissive as Miss Drake. I am only humble to those whom I know and love, and who love me!" replied Queenie, with a soft unsteady smile. "You are very good, Miss Cunningham; but I do not see how you can help me in this. I have Langley and Cathy, and they trust me a little," finished the girl, with a touching inflexion in her voice; "and for the rest, it is hard uphill work, and I must fight my way alone;" and then, as though to put a stop to the argument, she rose and placed herself by Langley's side. "I don't understand. I hope she does not think me interfering. Perhaps she does not know that Hepshaw is a sort of second home to me!" returned Dora, in unfeigned perplexity, turning to Garth. Rebuffs were unknown to her; she was far too used to worship to take them kindly; her face changed and clouded a little. "I call it such a pity to show this sort of feeling in such a position. You have all of you made a mistake, Mr. Clayton; she is far above her work." "There you are wrong," replied Garth warmly. Dora had risen, and he had followed her, and they were standing by the little gate looking down the plane-tree walk. Some children were planting flowers on a newly-made grave; some one was practising on the organ; through the open door they could hear snatches of Bach's Passion music. "Believe me, you are wrong; Miss Marriott's a fine creature. She thinks nothing beneath her, and would work herself to death for that little sister of hers. You are both good creatures; I wonder why you persist in misunderstanding each other?" he continued in an aggrieved voice, and with a man's usual blindness in such cases. "I am disappointed that you do not care more for Langley's _protégée_, Miss Dora."