It cost Peter a world of trouble to copy and recopy these epistles till his mother was satisfied with them; but she always told him that he would not be remembered so well or invited again unless he wrote; and this was true.

His little friends wrote in reply, but by no means such carefully-worded letters; they also favoured him with shoals of Christmas cards and showers of valentines, but his letters never got beyond the schoolroom; and if John Mortimer’s keen eyes had ever fallen on them, it would have availed nothing.  He would have discovered at once that they were not the child’s sole production, and would have been all the more decided not to invite him again.

When first Mrs. Melcombe came home she perceived a certain change in Laura, who was hardly able to attend to Peter’s lessons, and had fits of elation that seemed to alternate with a curious kind of shame.  Mrs. Peter Melcombe did not doubt that Laura fancied she had got another lover, but she was so tired of Laura’s lovers that she determined to take no notice; and if Laura had anything to say, to make her say it without assistance.  It seemed to her so right and natural and proper that she should wish to marry again herself, and so ridiculous of Laura to fancy that she wished to marry also.

On Valentine’s day, however, Laura had a letter, flushed high, and while trying to look careless actually almost wept for joy; for the moment Mrs. Melcombe was thrown off her guard, and she asked a question.

Laura, in triumph, handed the valentine to her sister-in-law.  “It’s strange,” she said tremulously, “very strange; but what is a woman to do when she is the object of such a passion?”

It was a common piece of paper with two coloured figures on it taking hands and smiling; underneath, in a clear and careful hand, was written—­

     “What would he give, your lover true,
     Just for one little sight of you?

     “J.S.”

“J.S.?” said Mrs. Melcombe, in a questioning tone.

“It’s Joseph, dear,” replied Laura, hanging down her head and smiling.

Joseph was the head plumber who had been employed about the now finished house, and Mrs. Melcombe’s dismay was great when she found that Joseph, having discovered how the young lady thought he was in love with her, was actually taking up the part of a lover, she dreaded to think what might occur in consequence.  Joseph was a very clever young workman, of excellent character, and Laura was intolerably foolish and to the last degree credulous.

If the young man had been the greatest scamp and villain, but in her own rank of life, it would have been nothing to compare with this, in the eyes of Mrs. Melcombe, or indeed in most people’s eyes.  She turned pale, and felt that she was a stricken woman.

She was not well educated herself, and she had not been accustomed to society, but she aspired to better things.  The house was just finished, she had written to Mr. Mortimer to tell him so.  She thought of giving a house-warming; for several of the families round, whose fathers and mothers had been kept at arms’ length by old Madam Melcombe till their children almost forgot that there was such a person, had now begun kindly to call on the lonely ladies, and express a wish to see something of them.