eyes.

'She met me as I was coming back.

I went to see Mrs. Ponsonby, and I am glad I did. If you don't believe what I say, ask her.'

'I should be sorry to disbelieve you,' was the answer; and Miss Ponsonby turned into the drawing-room and said no more. It is hopeless for me to think of managing a girl like that,' she thought. If Mrs. Meredith fails, she must be sent away to school. It is impossible for her to remain here unless she improves, and I have but little hope, in spite of Mrs. Meredith's sanguine expectations. Poor Mrs. Meredith! What a task lies before her!'

JUNDAY was a day of strict observance at the Cottage. It was cut out into certain divisions, and each division had its appointed routine.

To begin with, breakfast was punctually at halfpast eight, so that there might be no hurry for the ladies in getting off to the Sunday school. Miss Ponsonby had a class of boys; Miss Adelaide one of girls.

To Elfrida's surprise, her Aunt Dorothy summoned her to get ready at half-past nine, and to accompany her to the schoolhouse.

'I can't teach. Pray don't make me!'

'I will not give you a class to-day, but next Sunday I shall draft off three or four of the younger boys to you. To-day I wish you to listen,—first in the girls' school, where you will see Daisy and Lily Huntingdon each with their class, and your Aunt Adelaide with hers; then you can come to the

boys' room, and hear me question the boys on the Collect for the day. By the by, Elfrida, have you learned it?'

'Learned it! No! I-I don't quite know what you mean.'

'My dear, you shock me! Surely your mother, if she neglected everything else, did not neglect your religious training!'

'She never neglected me at all. But Sundays in France are not very different from other days. Mother had been too ill for years to go to church. I used to go sometimes with Madame de Laurier, in whose house we lived, but not always. When Pops-Colonel Bradshaw-came, he took me to the ugly little square barn where the English service was read, but I hated it.'

'You surely did not go the Roman Church ?'

'I suppose I did, when I went with Madame de Laurier. I used to like to watch the people praying.'

Miss Ponsonby was completely silenced now; and, gathering up her books in a bag, she went to get ready for her Sunday's work. Elfrida now filled her heart with more pity than displeasure; and there was something more loving and gentle in her manner towards her as she and her tall niece walked side by side down the village, than there had been before.'

'I would rather stay with you all the time than go into the girls' school,' Elfrida said as they reached the door.

'Very well,' Miss Ponsonby said; but you must be very quiet,-the attention of boys is so soon distracted.' Miss Ponsonby walked up the room to the place assigned to the highest class, and, taking a key out of her bag, told Elfrida to open a cupboard where the Bibles were kept, and place them on the desks.

Meantime the boys came straggling in, their boots making a heavy thud as they came up the room.

When all the scuffling of feet and low whispers about the new teacher had ceased, and several other teachers appeared, Miss Ponsonby told a boy to slip back the partition which divided the rooms; and Mr. Huntingdon stepped up to a desk midway between the two, and opened the school by a short prayer. After that the sliding door was closed again, and the schoolmaster and Miss Ponsonby began the work of the morning.

There were many eyes directed towards Elfrida by the village boys. She sat erect and stiff, feeling shy to a painful degree; and the effect of the shyness was to make her look so stern, that it was almost with awe the boy nearest to her began to repeat his Collect for the second Sunday after Trinity. It was all so new and strange to Elfrida, that the interest of watching everything soon made her less self-conscious, and when the sliding-door was again opened, and a hymn joined in by all the boys and girls, a clear ringing voice soon made itself heard above the rest, in the well-known strain of

'Summer suns are glowing

Over land and sea;
Happy light is flowing,
Bountiful and free.'

Mrs. Meredith, who was in the girls' room with Lily, was looking round at the young faces with interest. When the clear voice broke forth she turned her head, and saw Elfrida with her head raised, singing as . from the fulness of her heart. 'She looks beautiful now,' Mrs. Meredith thought. 'How sad that such a face should ever be clouded with temper and perversity!'

School over, the boys and girls filed off to church. It was not Miss Ponsonby's Sunday to sit with the children. But Miss Adelaide tripped up at the head of her class, and declined Mrs. Huntingdon's offer to sit with the children in her place.

'I like it, dear! I like it!' she said. 'And I keep them so good,—dear little things!'

The service at Thorpe Bishop church was simple but hearty, and Elfrida found it was a very different matter to attend it and the little English chapel abroad. She found herself listening to Mr. Huntingdon without any effort or intention of doing So. He spoke about the safety of those who were helped and governed by the unfailing Helper ; then of the necessity of law before liberty, and the duty of wise government and of control of others, which could not be attained till self-discipline had been learned.

'Self-discipline! that is what I want, I suppose,'