Then she felt much more at ease, and was able to have a comfortable study of her next Sunday's Gospel and its references, in case she should be too busy on the week days; and so she was peaceful and refreshed, and able to enjoy a quiet little wander in the twilight garden with her hymn-book. This lasted till the others came home, brim full of reports they had picked up about the splendour of the coming wedding. The gentleman, Mr. Holdaway, was staying at Newcorn Park, and, what was more, he had sent his horses and grooms down to the Manners Arms, because the stables at the Chequers were not well kept. The head groom had actually been at Church, and looked quite the gentleman, though to be sure he did stare about wonderfully. Mrs. Hollis shook her head, and said no good came of that sort of folk. CHAPTER VII. WANDERING EYES. "I ASSURE you he said he had never seen a place with more pretty young ladies in it." "Who?" said Jessie, coming suddenly into the light closet of the work-room, where Florence Cray was taking off her hat, and Amy Lee seemed to be helping her. "Why, Mr. Wingfield, Mr. Holdaway's head groom, who has come over with another man and a boy, and three of the loveliest horses you ever did see." "Oh, yes, I heard," said Jessie; "and how he stared about at Church! He ought to be ashamed of himself." "Oh! that's what Grace says, of course," said Florence; "and she's a regular old maid. She needn't fear that he'll stare at her." Wherewith both Florence and Amy giggled, and before Jessie's hot answer was out of her mouth, one of the aunts called out-- "Girls, girls, what are you doing? No gossiping there." Florence came out looking cross, and observing in a marked manner that Miss Fuller, at Ellerby, always spoke of her young ladies. "I like using right names," said Aunt Rose in her decided voice. Florence was silenced for the time, but at the dinner hour she contrived to get Amy alone. Jessie was in haste to get home to see if there were an answer from Miss Needwood, and also to try to get enough sewing done to pacify Grace, and purchase a little leisure for her mother. And Florence, instead of going home, stood with Amy, who had sauntered into the garden to refresh herself and gather some parsley. "I assure you, Amy, he was quite struck. He said yours was such a style that he would hardly believe me when I said you belonged to Mr. Lee, the baker. It was the refinement, he said." "Nonsense, Florence; don't," said Amy, blushing as crimson as the rose she tried to gather. "I'm not talking nonsense; I never did see a poor man so smitten." "Now, Florence, you shouldn't say such things; father and aunts would not like it. I shall go in." "Fathers and aunts are all alike; they never do like such things. But----"