“A body would suppose ’twas Miss Margaret’s, the way she’s conducted,” answered Mrs. Jeffrey; and Madam Conway continued, pointing to the boots:  “Who have we here?  These are not Margaret’s, surely?”

“No, ma’am, they belong to the young men who have turned the house topsy-turvy with their tableaux, their Revolution celebration, their banner, and carousing generally,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, rather pleased than otherwise at being the first to tell the news.

“Young men!” repeated Madam Conway—­“what young men?  Where did they come from, and why are they here?”

“They are Douglas and Warner,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, “two as big scapegraces as there are this side of Old Bailey—­that’s what they are.  They came from Worcester, and if I’ve any discernment they are after your girls, and your girls are after them.”

“After my girls!  After Maggie!  It can’t be possible!” gasped Mrs. Conway, thinking of Arthur Carrollton.

“It’s the very truth, though,” returned Mrs. Jeffrey.  “Henry Warner, who, in my opinion, is the worst of the two, got to chasing Margaret in the woods, as long ago as last April.  She jumped Gritty across the gorge, and he, like a fool, jumped after, breaking his leg—­”

“Pity it hadn’t been his neck,” interrupted Madam Conway; and Mrs. Jeffrey continued:  “Of course he was brought here, and Margaret took care of him.  After a while his comrade Douglas came out, and of all the carousals you ever thought of, I reckon they had the worst.  ’Twas the Fourth of July, and if you’ll believe it they made a banner, and Maggie planted it herself on the housetop.  They went off next morning; but now they’ve come again, and last night the row beat all.  I never got a wink of sleep till after two o’clock.”

Here, entirely out of breath, the old lady paused, and, going to her room, brought out a basin of water and a towel, with which she tried to wipe off the oil.  But Madam Conway paid little heed to the spoiled carpet, so engrossed was she with what she had heard.

“I am astonished at Margaret’s want of discretion,” said she, “and I depended so much upon her, too.”

“I always knew you were deceived by her,” said Mrs. Jeffrey, still bending over the oil; “but it wasn’t for me to say so, for you are blinded towards that girl.  She’s got some of the queerest notions, and then she’s so high-strung.  She won’t listen to reason.  But I did my country good service once.  I went up in the dead of night to take down the flag, and I don’t regret it either, even if it did pitch me to the bottom of the stairs, and sprained my ankle.”

“Served you right,” interposed Madam Conway, who, not at all pleased at hearing Margaret thus censured, now turned the full force of her wrath upon the poor little governess, blaming her for having suffered such proceedings.  “What did Margaret and Theo know, young things as they were? and what was Mrs. Jeffrey there for if not to keep them circumspect!  But instead of doing this, she had undoubtedly encouraged them in their folly, and then charged it upon Margaret.”