THE CONVERSATION.

3

'And how is it, Agnes,' said Mrs. Walton, 'that you do not also fret at this assumed superiority?'

"You say "assumed," mamma,' interrupted Georgie; 'then you do not think she is really superior to us?'

'Certainly I should not think her so, merely because she is richer; and I have not yet discovered whether she is your superior in disposition or in sense. So, until I have made up my mind on that point, I will only ask Agnes what she thinks of Constance.'

'I like her very much, mamma,' replied Agnes; ' and I do not wonder that she should not always like our way of living and doing things, because she has always been in great luxury herself. So I do not mind when she shows a little contempt for our clothes, and our house, and all our things.'

This conversation took place at the modest little tea-table of Mrs. Walton, who lived, as Georgie had said, in the Lodge of Norland Abbey. For it had once been the Lodge; and when the entrance to the Abbey had been altered, and a new Lodge built, the old one had been added to and made into a very pretty little house for the use of an old Mrs. Norland, who preferred a small abode of her own, when her son married and brought a young wife to the Abbey. After the death of that old lady, it was let to Mrs. Walton, a widow with two little girls, who was glad to

secure a beautiful little home in the park of her friend and schoolfellow, Lady Constance Norland.

The only child and heiress of Norland Abbey naturally became very intimate with the two little girls at the South Lodge; and her mother, knowing the many disadvantages that beset an only child, was well pleased that she should spend much of her time with two companions so desirable in every way as Agnes and Georgie. The Abbey was a large straggling building of many different dates. First it had been a monastery, of which still remained a ruined refectory, a cloister, and a roofless chapel. Part of the old building had been added to and converted into a dwelling-house; and later again a modern part had been built in an Elizabethan style, that harmonized well enough with the actual ruins that formed the background. The park and woods were extensive and beautiful. There was a river and a lake, and everything that could render a country abode delightful, one of the prettiest spots in the whole place being the abode of Mrs. Walton. She had taken much pains with her garden-one corner especially, through which ran a little rill, had been set apart for ferns; and collecting these in the different dells and lanes of the neighbourhood was a favourite amusement with the two girls. One valley, especially, distant about five miles, was fertile in ferns; and the morning after the

THE MORNING-ROOM.

5

conversation respecting Constance, Mrs. Walton sent a messenger to the Abbey with a note from Agnes, in answer to which Constance came herself, and ran up to the little room which Georgie and Agnes called their own.

'Am I not good,' she cried, 'to come so soon? I was quite glad to hear you were going to Fern Valley, because I want some ferns too. I suppose you will take your dinner with you, so I brought a basket of peaches with me for dessert.'

'Thank you, Constance,' said Agnes; we shall be ready to go in about half an hour: you see we have not quite finished our exercises. Will you go into the drawing-room to mamma, or into the garden, till we have done our work?'

'I will stay here,' said Constance; I will not interrupt you; but I like to sit in your bow, Georgie.'

There were two bow windows to the girls' own study, or morning-room. It was on the first floor, and was over the hall and the small dining-room. Each sister had appropriated one of the bows. The windows were down to the floor; and outside was a broad balcony, which they had filled with flower-pots, so that it was like two tiny rooms and two tiny gardens. These windows had a beautiful view over the park, the lake, and the opposite wood, with the turrets of the Abbey just appearing among the trees.

Constance allowed sometimes that she had not so snug and pretty a nook in her own sitting-room; and she now sat quietly on a low stool looking out at the landscape, whilst her two companions went on with their writing. Presently Agnes came and put her

hands over Constance's eyes.

'What are you thinking of?' she said; 'you are very grave this morning. I have finished and put away my desk and books; shall we go and see if mamma is nearly ready?'

'Yes,' said Constance, starting up; 'but I will tell you what I was thinking-and it is odd that I never thought it before, though I have so often sat looking out of this window,-why, that every single thing I see now, excepting that far-off hill, over the wood, is my own, at least it will be one day it is almost as good as mine now, as it is my father's. Look! the lake, the Abbey, the river, the woods, the deer, and everything!'

:

'Not everything,' said Georgie; 'not these flowerpots and not this balcony.'

'Not the flower-pots, certainly; but the balcony, yes! Don't you know that Mrs. Walton rents this house of papa?'

'Yes,' replied Georgie; and as long as she rents it, it is hers, and not yours!'

'Nonsense!' exclaimed Agnes, 'what does it

OFF TO FERN VALLEY.

7

signify to whom it belongs? It is a dear pretty place, and we are lucky to live in it. Come, mamma is calling us.'

The pony carriage was at the door; and having safely stowed under the front seat their basket of provisions and Constance's peaches, Mrs. Walton took her place.

'Will you come in front with me, Constance,' said Mrs. Walton, or sit with one of the girls?'

'Sit with me behind,' said Agnes, and Georgie will go with mamma.' And being thus seated, away started the impatient little pony.

'Did you remember,' said Georgie, 'to put in the trowel and knife and basket for the ferns?'

'Certainly,' replied her sister; that was our chief affair, you know. How pleasant this is, dear mamma! I like nothing so well, I think, as driving quickly along these lovely lanes. I am so glad you can We should miss it very much now.

have a pony.

Do you not like this, Constance ?'

'Yes, I like it,' replied Constance; 'even this little basket carriage is pleasant: of course a larger carriage is more comfortable, and a larger horse goes faster; but for all that, I do like driving with you.'

'Especially,' said Georgie, 'when all that you see is your own, or one day to be so, as you took care to tell us just now.'