’Oh, you are so kind, Lady Scatcherd.  I’m sure she’ll do quite nicely; she seems very quiet,’ said Mary.

‘Please, my lady, it’s a he,’ said the boy who held the halter.

‘Oh! a he, is it?’ said her ladyship; ’but the he-donkeys are quite as quiet as the shes ain’t they?’

’Oh, yes, my lady; a deal quieter, all the world over, and twice as useful.’

‘I’m so glad of that, Miss Thorne,’ said Lady Scatcherd, her eyes bright with joy.

And so Mary was established with her donkey, who did all that could be expected from an animal in his position.

‘But, dear Lady Scatcherd,’ said Mary, as they sat together at the open drawing-room window the same evening, ’you must not go on calling me Miss Thorne; my name is Mary, you know.  Won’t you call me Mary?’ and she came and knelt at Lady Scatcherd’s feet, and took hold of her, looking up into her face.

Lady Scatcherd’s cheeks became rather red, as though she was somewhat ashamed of her position.

‘You are very kind to me,’ continued Mary, ’and it seems so cold to hear you call me Miss Thorne.’

’Well, Miss Thorne, I’m sure I’d call you anything to please you.  Only I didn’t know whether you’d like it from me.  Else I do think Mary is the prettiest name in all the language.’

‘I should like it very much.’

’My dear Roger always loved that name better than any other; ten times better.  I used to wish sometimes that I’d been called Mary.’

‘Did he!  Why?’

’He once had a sister called Mary; such a beautiful creature!  I declare that sometimes think you are like her.’

‘Oh, dear! then she must have been very beautiful indeed!’ said Mary, laughing.

’She was very beautiful.  I just remember her—­oh, so beautiful! she was quite a poor girl, you know; and so was I then.  Isn’t it odd that I should have to be called “my lady” now.  Do you know Miss Thorne—­’

‘Mary!  Mary!’ said her guest.

’Ah, yes; but somehow, I hardly like to make so free; but, as I was saying, I do so dislike being called “my lady”:  I always think the people are laughing at me; and so they are.’

‘Oh, nonsense.’

’Yes they are though:  poor dear Roger, he used to call me “my lady” just to make fun of me; I didn’t mind it so much from him.  But, Miss Thorne—­’

‘Mary, Mary, Mary.’

’Ah, well!  I shall do it in time.  But, Miss—­Mary, ha! ha! ha! never mind, let me alone.  But what I want to say is this:  do you think I could drop it?  Hannah says, that if I go the right way about it she is sure I can.’

‘Oh! but, Lady Scatcherd, you shouldn’t think of such a thing.’

‘Shouldn’t I now?’

’Oh, no; for your husband’s sake you should be proud of it.  He gained great honour, you know.’

‘Ah, well,’ said she, sighing after a short pause; ’if you think it will do him any good, of course I’ll put up with it.  And then I know Louis would be mad if I talked of such a thing.  But, Miss Thorne, dear, a woman like me don’t like to have to be made a fool of all the days of her life if she can help it.’