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Show becoming a dlsfeTace to us all and ca'us-lng ca'us-lng the finger of BCorn to 'be pointed at our poverty!" exclaims Ruby hotly. "There was only one old woman besides be-sides myself," explains Shell calmly; "and I don't think she'll point the finger of scorn because she called me dearie' all the way, and seemed quite a pleasant old body." "Don't scold her, Huby the child meant well," interposes Mrs. "Wilden, with a smile at Shell. "And how did you leave things at home, dear?" (To be Continued.) 1 I Shell S3 1 I Wildeflo "Never mind I shall set that all right when we are on the other side of the Channel," returns Ted, with comic confidence. "How is a fellow to speak French if he has' never been abroad?" "He needn't attempt it," says Robert, severely. "H'm! I think I will retire behind the newspaper till the wind has changed chang-ed quarter," remarks Ted, in loud confidence con-fidence to the world in general. "Well, I do feel out of temper," admits ad-mits Robert, in a self-deprecating voice, as he turns and enters the house. u CHAPTER XI. (Continued.) "A man has no right to build such a house as this, and impoverish his family by so doing, unless he has means sufficient to leave them comfortably com-fortably provided for," he muses impatiently. impa-tiently. "This house must be a white elephant to Mrs. Wilden, and yet ehe cannot bear the idea of letting it, and moving into a place more suited to her means! Well, I can sympathize with her weakness, for, though the country round looks upon her late husband in the light of a selfish spendthrift, I dare say she still contemplates him as a departed saint." Then, no answer having come to his summons, he rings again, wondering vaguely at the great stillness which pervades the house. Presently, however, that stillness is broken by the sound of heavy bolts being be-ing withdrawn, ending wiih a grating turning of the iron key; then the door Is opened, and Susan stands revealed. "I knowed it was you, sir, through peeping beside the window-blind," she explains with a slow broad smile, "or else I shouldn't ha' opened." "Quite right, Susan," agrees Mr. Champley, stepping into the hall without with-out waiting for an invitation "quite right to be cautious. I want to speak to Miss Shell for a moment. Is she In?" "Eh?" asks Susan, putting her hand behind her ear, and assuming a list-i list-i ening attitude for she is a little hard of hearing, and the question is uttered rapidly. Robert Champley again expresses his wish for an interview with Shell, and, what Is more, the old woman's eyes being fixed steadily on him as he makes his demand, he feels himself growing red as he makes it. When Susan's face finally relaxes into a broad smile he feels that it would afford him Infinite In-finite relief to box her ears. "Miss Shell?" the old woman repeats, still smiling at the Joke. "Her lBn't here her went away two hours ago." "Went away went where?" demands de-mands her visitor,' looking bewildered. "Her's gone to join her ma and Miss I Ruby, sure," explains Susan, in a tone which denotes that such a question almost al-most merits contempt. "Her's main fanciful, is Miss Shell; and this morning morn-ing she took it into her head all of a hop as her'd go to the moor, and carry car-ry along with her the wraps as was wanted. So nothing would do but she had me up a-helping pack at six o'clock, and running errands for books to the town till I'm fair off my legs." "Oh, indeed gone to the moor, has she? Well, I am very glad to hear it," answers Robert Champley, with a strange and unaccountable feeling of keen disappointment. "Mrs. Wilden, I know, was feeling anxious about her tlhis house is so lonely." "No, I shan't be lonely," remarks Susan, who, only catching the last word, applies it to herself and her own affairs. "I've got permission from Miss Shell to have up my married niece and her baby to keep me company." "A very good arrangement," remarks Robert Champley in a slow thoughtful voice; then he slips a half-crown into Susan's hand, and reluctantly retraces his steps down the weed-grown drive. "What a will-o'-the-wisp that girl is!" he muses, a little resentfully. "She might have told me she was going, and so saved me the trouble of this most unnecessary walk." Man-like, he does not pause to consider con-sider that Shell unless gifted with second sight could have known nothing noth-ing whatever of his intended visit, seeing see-ing that he himself decided on it only In' the early morning. He finds his brother still sprawling on the grass, still half hidden beneath the Times. "So soon?" cries Ted, emerging with a tragic air. "I opine that your reception recep-tion was not all your fancy painted it; and yet let me investigate" screwing screw-ing up one eye in a scrutinizing way "you look intact; there doesn't seem to be a bite out of you." "Probably because Miss Shell was not at home," retorts Robert, with a lazy yawn. "How providential! If I had known that I might have gone. But where has the bird flown? I trust not in this direction." "No fear of that!" laughs Robert, a little sorely. "She has flown to Oak-moor." Oak-moor." "What a blessing she didn't take wing before we left!" muses Ted. ""What has the poor girl done to you that you should hate her so?" asks Robert, with' a sudden burst of wrath. Ted raises himself on his elbow and stares at his brother in solemn wonder. won-der. "I say, the morning air doesn't seem to agree with you, old boy!" he remarks re-marks in a meditative tone. "I don't hate Shell; I know she la a brick to the children they adore her; but, seeing see-ing that she does nothing but snub me when we meet well, I don't adore her!" "It is of no use to waste more words on the subject," says Robert, impatiently impa-tiently "we are neither of use likely to see her again for a month or bo." "Tant mleux!" remarks Ted, placidly. placid-ly. "If I couldn't pronounce French better bet-ter than you do I'd stick to English!" said Robert, In a tone of irritation. CHAPTER XII. It is three o'clock. The early dinner din-ner is over at Gorse Cottage; as Violet puts it, the one excitement of the day has come to an end. Before a freshly-lighted fire Mrs. Wilden sits enveloped in a white knitted knit-ted shawl; she has established herself for an afternoon doze, and looks upon the whole tolerably comfortable. The same cannot be said of her niece Violet, Vio-let, who is established beside the low casement window in a folding American Amer-ican chair with carpet seat. A look of utter boredom mars her pretty face, whilst her pale pink costume is inar-tlstically inar-tlstically finished off by a woolen antimacassar anti-macassar striped scarlet and black; she holds a book in her hands, but seems to be thinking rather than reading, read-ing, and evidently her thoughts are not like her dress, rose colored. "Good gracious me!" cries a laughing laugh-ing voice, suddenly breaking in upon the silence which has reigned in the room for the last half-hour. "What is the matter? Has everybody got colds or what, that you are all wrapped up like Egyptian mummies?" "Shell," cries Mrs. Wilden, starting out of her half doze with a frightened look, "what has happened? Why have yon come?" "Only a freak of mine, mother dear! I just thought I should like a mouthful of bracing air!" laughs Shell, as she kisses her mother half a dozen times, and then turns a scrutinizing gaze all round the room. Mrs. Wilden returns the kisses with interest if one corner of her heart Is warmer than another, Shell possesses that corner. "I was afraid something had happened," hap-pened," she says, with her eyes still fixed lovingly on her daughter's face; "but I am very glad that you decided to join us only you might have written, writ-ten, dear." "You are welcome as the flowers in May," cries Violet, who has left her chair, and at this juncture gives Shell a cousinly hug, "only you were an awful aw-ful goose to come! If I ever get back to Mudford, wild horses shall never drag me to a moor again." "But what is the matter with the moor?" asks Shell. "I thought it perfectly per-fectly lovely as we came along so fresh and free and wild and breezy; ' then the village itself is so quaint I could spend six weeks in sketching it." "But I can't sketch, you see," yawns Violet; "and as to its being fresh and wild and breezy, why, it is like midwinter. mid-winter. I doubt if I shall ever get thoroughly warm again. By the way, did you see Mr. Champley, and did you bring the wraps I asked for?" "I did; and, what is more, I brought your velveteen dress." "You thoughtful darling! I believe I shall find courage to go out of doors again, now you have come." "We certainly do find it very cold here," interposes Mrs. Wilden's gentle voice; and the house is so scantily furnished that one seems devoid of comfort." "Comfort!" cries Vi, with a laugh of scorn. "Do those American chairs represent comfort? There is no couch and no coal-box, the windows and doors are simply draught-traps, and the carpete are so full of holes one is in constant danger of tripping. Wait till you have seen the window curtains on a windy night it is a case of perpetual motion and, as a climax, I have only two blankets on my bed!" "Poor, persecuted Vi!" laughs Shell, much amused at her cousin's tragic face. "oHw does Ruby stand it, and where is she?" "Here she comes!" responds Vi, who is standing with her elbows on the broad window-sill. "She has been over at Meadowcroft seeing to the children " As she speaks, Miss Wilden enters the room-she starts slightly on seeing Shell, but there is no look of welcome on her face. "What brought you here?" she asks imprinting a ceremony-kiss on Shell's upturned face. "The carrier's wagon," answers Shell naively. There issues a simultaneous exclamation exclama-tion of surprise and horror from the ladies present. "What in the world induced you to come by the carrier's wagon?" de-mandsfcuby; de-mandsfcuby; with a face the color of qhlhe B,?irlt f econW answers She 1 coolly. "I found a fly would be welve and sixpence; I didn't feel justified jus-tified in spending all that on mvself so I came with the carrlor-I mid the parcels together were only ono-aud- "You wore certainly not justified In j |