Mr. Hawtry spoke most to Gay, and I sat by and listened. He spoke about Mr. Rossiter presently. “I think him a capital fellow,” he said, in his hearty manner; “and it quite puzzles me why Mrs. Markham dislikes him so; she is always finding fault with him.” “Oh, there is no accounting for Adelaide’s likes and dislikes,” replied Gay, a little impatiently. “Sometimes I think she would have found fault with St. Paul himself if she had known him.” Mr. Hawtry laughed. “Rossiter is not a St. Paul, certainly, but he is a downright honest fellow, and that is what I like. Perhaps he is not a shining light in the pulpit, but he is so earnest and painstaking, that we cannot blame his want of eloquence. He is just the companion that suits me; always cheerful and always good-tempered, and ready to talk on any subject. I must say I am rather partial to Walter Rossiter.” Now I wonder what made Gay look so pleased, and why her eyes beamed so softly on Mr. Hawtry. But she said nothing, and Mr. Rossiter’s name soon dropped out of the conversation. Very shortly after that the rain cleared and the waggonette was ordered. While we were waiting for it, Gay asked me to come with her into the dairy to see Lydia Sowerby. I was anxious to see Hannah’s sister, but I own I was not prepossessed with her appearance. She had red hair, like Molly—indeed, most of the Sowerbys had red hair—but she was far plainer than Molly, and it struck me her face looked hard. I was to own by-and-by, however, that first impressions may be wrong, for a few moments afterwards, when Mrs. Cornish carried Reggie into the dairy, Lydia’s hard-featured face softened in a wonderful manner, and such a pleasant smile redeemed her plainness. “Oh, do let me hold him a moment,” she said, eagerly; “he reminds me of little Davie, our poor little brother who died. Hannah has talked so much about him.” And when Mrs. Cornish relinquished him reluctantly, she carried him about the dairy with such pride and joy, that Mrs. Cornish nodded her head at her benignantly. “You are a rare one for children, Lyddy; I never saw a woman to beat you. She is always begging me to ask Dan,” she went on, turning to us. “She spoils Dan hugely, and so does Molly; they are both of them soft-hearted, though you would not believe it to look at them, but many a soft fruit has a rough rind,” finished Mrs. Cornish. Reggie was asleep all the way home, but Joyce prattled incessantly. I took them into the house as quietly as I could, after bidding Mr. Hawtry good-night. I thought it best to leave Gay to explain things to Mrs. Markham. But all that evening, until I slept, a sentence of Mr. Hawtry’s haunted me. “I wish my sister Agnes could have known you, Miss Fenton.” Why did he wish that? And yet, and yet I should have been glad to have known Agnes Hawtry, too. (_To be continued._) VARIETIES. A GOOD OFFER. “I will save you a thousand pounds,” said an Irishman to an old gentleman, “if you don’t stand in your own light.”