“I have a great mind to go," said she, "for Aunt Tatchet cannot be expected to know so much as I do; and what is the good of a talking bird, unless I make use of my knowledge?"

These thoughts occurred again and again, and seemed to increase, as such thoughts, if indulged, usually do, in force and intensity. In fact, her reasons for going, in the end, were so clear and plain, that she tied on her bonnet, and felt as if the whole affair were a matter of duty instead of disobedience. She was soon on her way to Mr. Elton's, but somehow or other, her step was not so light as it had been a few hours ago. The sky was clear and intensely blue, the trees beautiful as before, and the boys still sliding away upon But Rose's heart was ill at ease, and the pond. in spite of all her arguments, and all her knowledge, she had a secret feeling she was doing wrong. She rang at the bell with rather a trembling hand, and glanced towards the play-room window, expecting to see her little friend upon the watch. But no Fanny was there.

"I am come to spend the day with Miss Elton," said she to the servant who opened the door.

"That is very unlucky, Miss," replied the girl, "for master and the young lady are just gone out."

"But Miss Elton sent to invite me," said Rose, without moving from the step.

"Yes Miss, but your aunt sent word that it wasn't convenient, because a gentleman was coming, Captain—I forget his name, and then master ordered the carriage, and away they went."

"How very tiresome," said Rose, peevishly; " I dare say they will call at Aunt Tatchet's, and then what a pretty scrape I shall be in !"

"This comes of having a talking bird!" thought she, as she turned her steps homewards. "I wish I had never asked it when my Uncle was coming."

She consoled herself, however, by thinking that she had been absent but a very short time, and might, perhaps, escape detection, by creeping up stairs unperceived. But no such good fortune awaited her. Aunt Tatchet, whose strength had been recruited by a second and more successful lunch, was again veering between the kitchen and the parlour, and encountered the little girl in the hall.

"And pray, Miss Rose, where have you been to, with your bonnet and tippet on ?" asked she, very much surprised.

"O Rose dear!" cried Margaret, running out of the drawing-room, "I have been looking for you everywhere. Fanny Elton has been here with her beautiful new doll, and it is more wonderful than any doll I have ever seen."

"How provoking, to be sure!" said Rose, ready to burst

into tears.

"Provoking enough, to be out of the way when you are wanted," said Miss Tatchet. "Where have you been to?" "To Mr. Elton's, Aunt," said Rose, blushing deeply, and hanging down her head.

"What! when I told you to stay at home, because your Uncle was coming?" said Miss Tatchet, "as it happens,

the coach is in without him, but he might just as well have been here."

"I knew he would not come to-day," said Rose, triumphantly.

"Don't tell such a story, Rose," said Miss Tatchet angrily; knew no more about it than I did."

"you

"I never told a story in my life, Aunt," cried Rose, "but I knew the Captain-"

"Go along with you, directly, you naughty child," said Miss Tatchet, enraged at her pertinacity; "and whether the Captain comes or not, you shall be shut up in your own room all day, to punish your disobedient conduct."

Here was, indeed, a terrible scrape, and poor Rose begged and prayed, in vain, to be forgiven. Miss Tatchet took no notice of her sobs and tears, but following her up stairs, set her a double lesson to learn, and then turned the key, and left her to her own reflections.

CHAPTER III.

THE CAPTAIN'S ARRIVAL.

THE arrival of the stage-coach at the retired village of Wells, though it occurred every day all the year round, never failed to be an event of great interest and importance. At such times the village children, with open mouths, and eyes brim full of curiosity, invariably assembled near the porch of the "Pheasant and Crown"; and here and there a knot of school-boys would linger on the watch, and beguile the time with leap-frog, or a game at marbles. Happy was he who first caught sight of the horses, as they gained the summit of the neighbouring hill. Caps were flung into the air, hands clapped with boyish delight, and a loud "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" was shouted at the pitch of their voices, by the joyous little group. After this the plot would thicken fast. Out popped the landlord, with his round merry face, and clean white apron. Ostlers and stable-boys began to be in a state of excitement, and even the pretty barmaid would take advantage of the confusion, to smooth her ringlets at the twice-cracked mirror over the

D

parlor mantel-piece. But all is not gold that glitters, and it often happened that a rough grazier, or a buxom servant girl, with her bandbox on her lap, was the only result of a whole hour's watching. Then the schoolboys, whose quick eyes searched out the contents of the coach in an instant, would whisper to each other, that it was "no go," and turning on their heels, walk quietly away. The pretty bar-maid would toss her head disdainfully, and the landlord thrust his hands into his pockets, and whistle to hide his vexation. But on the morrow all was smooth again, and the landlord, the village children, and the schoolboys, were in the same state of joyous expectation.

On this particular occasion, however, their patience was put to a severer trial than usual. The church clock has twice struck the hour, and yet no coach is to be seen. What can be the reason? Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! there it comes; the horses toiling along as if the burden were terribly heavy. Who can it be? Some great stranger, no doubt. Perhaps a duke, or a lord, or even a prince in disguise. Who knows? And the schoolboys buzzed about the coach, peeping over each other's shoulders, and almost pushing each other down in their eagerness to look.

"Well, my lads, what now?" said a good-natured voice from out a pile of cloaks and furs, "Did you expect to see the wonderful dwarf, or the giant who lived in the beanstalk? if so, I am happy to say you will be disappointed."

At this singular address, the boys fell back in great alarm, and a few of the little ones ran away; while the stranger proceeded to stretch his arms and his legs, as if to