Mr. Hawtry came into the kitchen, and when he saw us I thought he started a little as though he were surprised, and he came up to me at once. “Good-evening, Miss Fenton; I did not expect to see you here, and my little friend, too,” as Joyce as usual ran up to him. “What a lovely evening you have for your walk home! You did not bring Miss Cheriton with you?” “No; she has visitors this afternoon; the children and I have had our tea here, and now it is Reggie’s bed-time.” “Shall I call Hannah?” he returned, hastily, for I was putting Reggie in his perambulator. “I saw her walking down the orchard with Luke Armstrong and Matthew.” And as I thanked him he bade Molly good-bye, and, putting his arm through his horse’s bridle, in another moment we could hear a clear whistle. Hannah came at once; she looked happy and rosy, and whispered to Molly as we went down the courtyard together. Mr. Hawtry was at the horse-block; as he mounted he called me by name, and asked if the little girl would like a ride. I knew he would be careful, but all the same I longed to refuse, only Joyce looked disappointed and ready to cry. “Oh, nurse, do let me,” she implored, in such a coaxing voice. “My horse is as quiet as a lamb. You may safely trust her, Miss Fenton,” he said so persuasively I let myself be over-ruled. It was very pretty to see Joyce as he held her before him and rode down the lane. She had such a nice colour, and her eyes were bright and sparkling as she laughed back at me. It was very kind of Mr. Hawtry. It seemed to me he never lost any opportunity of giving children pleasure. But I was glad when the ride ended, and I lifted Joyce to the ground. She clasped me tightly in her glee. “It was so nice, so werry nice, nursey dear,” she exclaimed. As I looked up and thanked Mr. Hawtry, I found that he was watching us, smiling. “I am afraid your faith was not equal to Joyce’s,” he said, rather mischievously. “I would not let Peter canter, out of pity for your fears.” “I beg your pardon,” I stammered, rather distressed by this, “but I cannot help being afraid of everything. You see the children are entrusted to me.” “I was only joking,” he returned, and he spoke so gently. “You are quite right, and one cannot be too careful over children; but I knew I could trust old Peter,” and then he lifted his hat and cantered down the lane. He could not have spoken more courteously; his manner pleased me. It caused me a little revulsion when Mrs. Markham met us at the gate with a displeased countenance. She motioned to Hannah to take the children on to the house, and detained me with a haughty gesture. “Nurse,” she said, harshly, “I am extremely surprised at the liberty you take in my sister’s absence. I am quite sure she would be excessively angry at your taking the children to Wheeler’s Farm without even informing me of your intention.”