Summer is always enjoyable in a country house, and probably it is only after an extended absence from England that one can thoroughly appreciate the delights of English country life. To both girls the change was pleasant, to Lucy especially; the Villa Lambert had been to her a very punishment, for there had been no one to talk to. But Lucy had found an ally, a mine of information, a fund of amusement, an appreciative audience all combined, in her cousin's French _bonne_. Naturally the foreigner looked upon England as a veritable land of Egypt, a house of bondage; equally naturally, she determined to spoil the Egyptians whenever she should have the opportunity. In her mind, as is the case with all the working classes in France, the English were objects of derision and ridicule, as well as hereditary enemies. Fanchette felt very much like a wolf turned loose in a sheep-fold: the wolf cannot foregather with the sheep; and the animal's delight may be fancied when it discovers that one at least of the flock, under the snowiest and most innocent-looking of fleeces, is, like herself, a wolf after all. Is it to be wondered at, then, that Fanchette clung to Miss Warrender? The pair thoroughly understood each other. Every Frenchwoman at heart is an intriguer, here again was a similarity of tastes and pursuits. No successor had as yet been appointed to Hephzibah Wallis. The little Lucius, like most infants of his tender age, passed the greater portion of his day in sleep, and Fanchette being an active person, willingly devoted the large proportion of spare time on her hands to Reginald Haggard's wife. It is hardly to be wondered at that old Squire Warrender, who idolized his daughter, should make a fool of himself over the little Lucius. He even brushed up his archaic French for the sake of inquiring directly after the child's health from Fanchette. But Fanchette was only Fanchette to the two girls and the squire; to the rest of the inhabitants of The Warren she soon became "Mamzell;" this brevet, or to be more correct, local rank, she first earned by her own personal heroism. Johnny Chubb, the oldest of The Warren coachman's boys, was detected by the _bonne_ in a series of hideous grimaces. She promptly seized Johnny by the ear. Johnny's ears were large, projecting, and of a healthy crimson. As she twisted his great red ear, the agonized cries of Johnny became heartrending. "Demand of me, then, pardon, little cancer," cried the indignant _bonne_ in her native idiom. "Say, I pray you to pardon me, Mademoiselle Fanchette."