me if, when he gets about again, he is all agog about a Sunday-school, for if he is, I shall be agog too, and perhaps twice as bad as him, for, you see, I’ve a strong constitution compared to his, and strong ways of speaking and acting.  And I tell your ladyship this now, because I think from your rank—­and still more, if I may say so, for all your kindness to me long ago, down to this very day—­you’ve a right to be first told of anything about me.  Change of opinion I can’t exactly call it, for I don’t see the good of schools and teaching A B C, any more than I did before, only Mr. Gray does, so I’m to shut my eyes, and leap over the ditch to the side of education.  I’ve told Sally already, that if she does not mind her work, but stands gossiping with Nelly Mather, I’ll teach her her lessons; and I’ve never caught her with old Nelly since.”

I think Miss Galindo’s desertion to Mr. Gray’s opinions in this matter hurt my lady just a little bit; but she only said—­

“Of course, if the parishoners wish for it, Mr. Gray must have his Sunday-school.  I shall, in that case, withdraw my opposition.  I am sorry I cannot alter my opinions as easily as you.”

My lady made herself smile as she said this.  Miss Galindo saw it was an effort to do so.  She thought a minute before she spoke again.

“Your ladyship has not seen Mr. Gray as intimately as I have done.  That’s one thing.  But, as for the parishioners, they will follow your ladyship’s lead in everything; so there is no chance of their wishing for a Sunday-school.”

“I have never done anything to make them follow my lead, as you call it, Miss Galindo,” said my lady, gravely.

“Yes, you have,” replied Miss Galindo, bluntly.  And then, correcting herself, she said, “Begging your ladyship’s pardon, you have.  Your ancestors have lived here time out of mind, and have owned the land on which their forefathers have lived ever since there were forefathers.  You yourself were born amongst them, and have been like a little queen to them ever since, I might say, and they’ve never known your ladyship do anything but what was kind and gentle; but I’ll leave fine speeches about your ladyship to Mr. Crosse.  Only you, my lady, lead the thoughts of the parish; and save some of them a world of trouble, for they could never tell what was right if they had to think for themselves.  It’s all quite right that they should be guided by you, my lady,—­if only you would agree with Mr. Gray.”

“Well,” said my lady, “I told him only the last day that he was here, that I would think about it.  I do believe I could make up my mind on certain subjects better if I were left alone, than while being constantly talked to about them.”

My lady said this in her usual soft tones; but the words had a tinge of impatience about them; indeed, she was more ruffled than I had often seen her; but, checking herself in an instant she said—­