“Where did she get this, Jane?”

“Present from the old gentleman, mum; he had it down from London for her all at one time with this shawl and twelve puragloves.”

Lucy looked two inches taller than Mrs. B., but somehow, I can’t tell how, this dress of hers fitted the latter like a glove.  It embraced her; it held her tenderly, but tight, as gowns and lovers should.  The poor dear could not get out of it.  “I must wear it an hour or two,” said she.  “Besides, it will save my own, knocking about in these country lanes.”  Thus attired she went into the drawing-room to surprise Lucy.  Now Lucy was determined not to move; so, not to be enticed, she did not even look up from her work; on this the other took a mild huff and whisked out.

So keen are the feminine senses, that Lucy, on reflection, recognized something brusk, perhaps angry, in the rustle of that retiring dress, and soon after rang the bell and inquired where Mrs. Bazalgette was.  John would make henquiries.

“Your haunt is in the back garden, miss.”

“Walking, or what?”

John would make henquiries.

“She is reading, miss; and she is sitting on the seat master ’ad made for you, miss.

“Very well:  thank you.”

“Any more commands, miss?”

“Not at present.”  John retired with a regretful air, as one capable of executing important commissions, but lost for lack of opportunity.  All the servants in this house liked to come into contact with Lucy.  She treated them with a dignified kindness and reserved politeness that wins these good creatures more than either arrogance or familiarity.  “Jeames is not such a fool as he looks.”

Lucy was glad.  Her aunt had got her book.  It is an interesting story; she will not miss me now, and the carriage will soon be here, and then I will make up for my unkindness.  Curiously enough, at this very juncture, the fair student found something in her parchment which gave her some little hopes of a favorable result.

She was following this clue eagerly, when all of a sudden she started.  Her ear had caught the rattle of a carriage over the stones of the stable yard.  She rang the bell, and inquired if that was not the carriage.

“Yes, miss.

“My uncle has sent it back, then?  He is not coming to-day?”

John would inquire of the coachman.

“Oh yes, miss, master is come, but he got out at the foot of the hill, and walked up through the shrubbery with the young gentleman to show him the grounds.”  On this news Lucy rose hastily, snatched up a garden hat, and, without any other preparation, went out to intercept her uncle.  As she stepped into the garden she heard a loud scream, followed by angry voices; she threw her hands up to heaven in dismay and ran toward the sounds.  They came from the back garden.  She went like lightning round the corner of the house, and came plump upon an agitated group, of whom she made one directly, spellbound.  Here stood Aunt Bazalgette, her head turned haughtily, her cheeks scarlet.  There stood Mr. Fountain on the other side of the rustic seat, red as fire, too, but wearing a hang-dog look, and behind him young Arthur, pale, with two eyes like saucers, gazing awestruck at the first row he had ever seen between a full-grown lady and gentleman.