"Well, Isaac?" "Put on your things, and I'll smuggle you off. Quick" She needed no second warning. In two minutes, down she was again, a white mantle on her shoulders, a straw hat with its blue ribbons shading her fair bright face. Isaac took her out at the front door, just before Mademoiselle Derode got back again. "I have sent for your brother, Mr. Richard, Miss Mary Anne, and----_Ella n'est pas ici?_" Mademoiselle called, and looked in this room and that. She had not finished when Richard strode in, his face dark and stern as usual, his shoes and gaiters dusty, his velveteen waistcoat buttoned close up, his coat soiled. He had been helping to fill in a pond. "Lessons! of course she must learn her lessons. Where is she, mademoiselle?" Mademoiselle was arriving at the conclusion that she was nowhere. One of the housemaids had seen her dress herself, and go downstairs. Of course she had gone. Gone in disobedience! Richard went back to his pond, and mademoiselle sat down and folded her arms. In the course of an hour Mr. Thornycroft came in. A handsome man still, upright and grand; his features fair and pleasant, his smile rather free, no grey as yet mingling with his still luxuriant hair. Mademoiselle carried her grievance to him; as she had been obliged to do more than once of late. "It is not to complain of her, monsieur; I'm sure you know that, I love her too well; but in her own interest I must speak. She is at the age when she most needs guidance and control; and she is showing that she has a will of her own, and will exercise it! It was always there." "I suppose it was," said the justice. "I have a will myself. Richard and Isaac have wills." "If I can no longer be obeyed, monsieur, better that I should go back to my little home in France, and make a place for a governess who will have control." "No, no," said Mr. Thornycroft, very quickly. "That would not do. I'll have no fresh governess here." "But what is to be done, monsieur?" "I'll think of it," said Mr. Thornycroft. CHAPTER II. Robert Hunter and his Wife. In the midst of the pretty and exclusive village of Katterley, an inland spot, from twenty to thirty miles away from the sea, there stands a charming residence, half-cottage, half-villa, called Katterley Lodge. Its rooms are warm in winter, cool in summer; it rises in the midst of a lovely garden, in view of magnificent scenery; and the sweetest roses and honeysuckles entwine themselves on its walls.