glowing language he could command, a history of the schoolmaster's valour. "He swam just like a dog, he did," the boy was saying, as the subject of his discourse knocked at the door. The audience were all listening so intently that no one noticed the knock. "Lor, I was frightened when I heard Sally go in splash like a log of wood. I turned all cold, and my heart seemed to leave off beating like, and then it went thump, thump like father's bellows. But the master, he turned round as quick as quick, and off with his clothes and into the water in an instant—and Sally, why she was ever so far down by that time, but he caught her, that he did. Oh my! don't I wish I could swim like that!" It was at least the twentieth time that Jim had already related the story, for every one wished to hear it from headquarters, and Jim was beginning to feel himself quite an important person for having caused the accident.

It was not every day that a child was nearly drowned at Chiltern, and the people made the most of it; and when they knew all danger was passed, thoroughly enjoyed the excitement, and every one had some new question to ask.

Stephen did not like acting the part of eavesdropper, so, as he found no one seemed likely to take any notice of his knock, he walked boldly into the kitchen.

There was a sudden silence the moment he made his appearance, and every one stared at him as though he had been an apparition.

"I came round to ask how your little girl is going on, Mrs Poole," said Stephen; " and here are a few ginger

bread nuts my mother made for me, she might like them."

"God bless your kind heart, sir; and she's in a lovely sleep, just like a baby. Would you like to look at her, sir?"

"No,"

Now, all the women in the village had wanted to see the child who had been almost restored from the dead, but Mrs Poole had been firm in her denials. she said stoutly, "Mr Rivers said as how she were to be kept very quiet-and very quiet I mean to keep her till he sees her again. He knows all about drowned folks, he does; why, I do believe he's a bit of a doctor, as well as a schoolmaster, I do." The much abused Londoner was fast being exalted into a hero.

"Yes. I should like to take a look at her, just to satisfy myself," Stephen answered, and he stepped upstairs on tip-toe after the good woman.

The child was, as she had said, in a lovely sleep. Stephen watched her for a minute or two and felt her hand. "She is all right," he whispered, and then he stooped down and gently kissed her cheek. And, as Mrs Poole afterwards confided to her neighbour, Mrs White, from that moment she "loved the young man like a son."

When Stephen returned to the kitchen, the mighty blacksmith held out his huge hand and clasped that of Stephen.

"Bless you, sir, bless you for what you've done for me this day," the man said with a choking voice, and he rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. He had performed that action a good many times that evening, for he had imagination enough to picture to himself how desolate

he would have felt had his little one now been lying dead and cold.

Stephen was moved by the strong man's emotion. "I never was more pleased to do anything," he said, returning the grasp as well as he could: but, in fact, his hand was almost crushed in that mighty palm.

Stephen's hand had to undergo a good deal more squeezing before the night was over; for, as soon as the smith released it, it was seized by one rough hand after another, till every one in the room had thus testified to his approbation and appreciation of the Schoolmaster's valour.

Stephen himself did not consider that he had done anything more than any one would have done under the circumstances, and he said so: but he was glad of anything that would break down the barrier that he could not but feel had hitherto separated him from these kind people.

"I think we ought to drink the master's health," said the smith, "come round to the Blue Boar and I'll treat you all," and he took Stephen by the arm; Stephen saw a look of pain, and almost terror, come across Mrs Poole's face.

"I think you'd much better all go to bed," she said, "hark! the church clock is striking nine."

"At any rate I must go to mine," said Stephen, “and I will wish you all good-night; I cannot go with you to the Blue Boar, for I only drink Adam's wine."

"They keep all sorts at the Boar," replied Poole, "though I never heard tell of Adam's wine; I don't often treat my neighbours, but I'm set upon doing it tonight."

There was a roar of laughter, and Ferrers said, “Why man, Adam's wine is my tipple-there were no Blue Boars in the garden of Paradise I reckon ;" then he turned to Stephen and said, "and I'm heartily glad, young man, to find you're of my way of thinking on that score: I wish there were more like you, the world would be a vastly better place."

The blacksmith looked disappointed, and the company began to slink off. They knew they had not much chance of their treat now that Ferrers put in his word.

Stephen knew that people did not like to have their hospitality refused, so, once more holding out his hand to Poole, he said—

"If your good wife will give me a cup of tea some day, I shall be delighted."

The smith was quite mollified by this speech, and made the Schoolmaster promise to come in the very next day after school.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE BLACKSMITH'S COTTAGE.

THE worthy Mrs Poole was in a great state of excitement about receiving her guest. Any one from London, she thought, must be accustomed to see things done in style. Now she knew she could not pretend to style, but she was determined to give a hearty country welcome. She spent the whole morning in cleaning up the great kitchen; every bit of the red brick floor was scrubbed, and every tin was polished, and all the crockery washed. The place looked very picturesque and inviting when Stephen arrived. It was a low room, with great beams across the ceiling, to which hung hams, strings of onions, and other provisions. There was a large open chimney, with a seat on each side of it, close to the fire, where the smith and his friends smoked their pipes on cold winter nights. The long low latticed windows were now set wide open to let in the evening air, and also the scent of the honeysuckle which covered the front of the cottage. All about the room were bunches of country flowers, which little Sally had gathered and arranged as her welcome to the "kind man."

As soon as her brothers returned from afternoon school, Sally posted herself at the garden gate, with her kitten in her arms, and watched for the visitor's arrival. When she saw him appear on the green, she ran to meet