“It was very impolite in you to run away and leave me when I was your partner in the first quadrille!  I do not see why you should have disappointed me for anything that fellow could have said or done!” exclaimed Claudia.

As all were speaking at once it was quite impossible to answer either, so Ishmael looked in embarrassment from one to the other.

Bee had not spoken; she was spreading butter on thin slices of bread for her baby sisters; but now, seeing Ishmael’s perplexity, she whispered to her mother: 

“Call them off, mamma dear; they mean well; but it must hurt his feelings to be reminded of last night.”

Mrs. Middleton thought so too; so she arose and went forward and offered Ishmael her hand, saying: 

“Good-morning, my boy; I am glad to see you; draw up your chair to the table.  Children, take your places.  Mr. Middleton, we have been waiting for you.”

“I know you have, my dear, but cold lunch don’t grow colder by standing; if it does, so much the better this warm weather.”

“I have been taking a walk with my young friend here,” said the gentleman, as he took his seat.

Ishmael followed his example, but not before he had quietly shaken hands with Beatrice.

At luncheon Mr. Middleton spoke of his plan, that Ishmael should come every day during the holidays to pursue his studies as usual in the schoolroom.

“You know he cannot read to any advantage in the little room where Hannah is always at work,” explained Mr. Middleton.

“Oh, no! certainly not,” agreed his wife.

The family were all pleased that Ishmael was still to come.

“But, my boy, I think you had better not set in again until Monday.  A few days of mental rest is absolutely necessary after the hard reading of the last few months.  So I enjoin you not to open a classbook before next Monday.”

As Mrs. Middleton emphatically seconded this move, our boy gave his promise to refrain, and after luncheon was over he went and got his books, took a respectful leave of his friends and returned home.

“Aunty,” he said, as he entered the hut, where he found Hannah down on her knees scrubbing the floor, “what do you think?  Mr. Middleton and his family are going away from the Hall.  They have had warning to quit at the end of six months.”

“Ah,” said Hannah indifferently, going on with her work.

“Yes; they leave on the first of February, and the owner of the place, young Mr. Herman Brudenell, you know, is coming on to live there for good!”

“Ah!” cried Hannah, no longer indifferently, but excitedly, as she left off scrubbing, and fixed her keen black eyes upon the boy.

“Yes, indeed! and Mr. Middleton—­oh, he is so kind—­says he will mention me to Mr Herman Brudenell.”

“Oh! will he?” exclaimed Hannah, between her teeth.

“Yes; and—­Mr. Herman Brudenell is a very kind gentleman, is he not?”