Johnnie bellowed out something else, but Miss Fosbrook would not let Sam go on; she touched his arm, and drew him off with her, he exclaiming, “Foolish old Freeman! she will pet and spoil him all church-time, till he is worse than ever.” It was lucky for her that she was too much hurried to dwell on this vexation; she almost ran to save herself from being late, and scarcely heard Sam’s mutterings about wishing to break Martin Greville’s head. “You need not hurry so much,” he said; “there’s a shorter cut, only I suppose you can’t get through a gap.” “Can’t I?” she laughed; and he led her on straight through the Short-horns. Some of them looked at her more than she fancied, but she knew she might give up all hopes of Sam if he detected her fears. Then came the gap, where a tree had been cut down in the hedge, and such a jump down from it! But she gathered up her muslin, and made her leap so gallantly, that the boy cried, “Hurrah! well done!” and came and walked close to her, saying confidentially, “I say, do you think we shall ever do the pig?” “I am sure it might be done. If you are likely to do it you must know better than I.” “I don’t know that I much care about it. It will be rather a bother; only now we have said it, I shall hate it if we don’t do it.” “I think the pleasure of giving it will be a delightful reward for a little self-command.” “Only Hal and the girls will make such a work about it. I’m glad, after all, that Bessie has nothing to do with it, or she would want to dress it up in flowers and ribbons. Ha-ha! But what a little crab it is!” “Don’t be too sure of that. People may have other designs.” “Bessie’s can’t be anything but trumpery.” “Sometimes present trumpery is a step to something better. ‘A was an Archer’ is not very wise, but it is the road to reading—and even if it were not so, Sam, it is not right to shame people into giving; for what is not bestowed for the true reasons, does no good to giver nor to receiver.” Sam looked up with a frown of attention, as if he were trying to take in the new light; but he did take it in, and smacking his hands together with a noise like a pistol-shot, said, “Ay, that’s it! We don’t want what is grudged.” Miss Fosbrook thought of words that would another time be more familiar to Sam. “Not grudgingly, nor of necessity, for God loveth a cheerful giver.” What she said was, “You see, if you plague Bessie too much, to make her like ourselves, when she is really so different, you are driving her to the shamming you despise so much.” “But ought not she to be cured of being silly?” “When we have quite made up our minds upon what silliness is. There, the bell has stopped.” CHAPTER IV.