"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Jasper. "I'll take Evelyn to England, and stay with her there."

Mrs. Wynford laughed.

"You are clever enough, Jasper," she said; "but what a figure of fun you would look in the grand sort of imperial residence that my dear late husband has described to me! You are not a lady, you know, although you are smart and clever enough to beat half the ladies out of existence."

"I shall know how to manage," said Jasper. "I, too, have heard of the ways of English grandees. I'll be Evelyn's maid. She cannot do without a maid, can she? I'll take Evelyn back, and I will stay with her as her maid."

Mrs. Wynford hailed this idea as a splendid one, and she even wrote a very badly spelt letter to Lady Frances, which Jasper was to convey and deliver herself, if possible, to her proud ladyship, as the widow called her sister-in-law. In this letter Mrs. Wynford demanded that Jasper was to stay with Evelyn as long as Evelyn wished for her, and she finally added:

"I dare you, Lady Frances, fine lady as you are, to part the child from her maid."

When Mrs. Wynford died Evelyn gave way to the most terrible grief. She refused to eat; she refused to leave her mother's dead body. She shrieked herself into hysterics on the day of the funeral, and then the poor little girl was prostrated with nervous fever. Finally, she became so unwell that it was impossible for her to travel to England for some months. And so it happened that nearly a year elapsed between the death of the mother and the arrival of the child at Castle Wynford.

CHAPTER IV.-"I DRAW THE LINE AT UNCLE NED."

"Well, Jasper," said Evelyn in a very eager voice to her maid that first night, "and how do you like it all?"

"How do you like it, Evelyn?" was the response.

"That is so like you, Jasper!" replied the spoilt little girl. "When all is said and done, you are not a sc.r.a.p original. You make me like you-I cannot help myself-but in some ways you are too cautious to please me.

You don't want to say what you think of the place until you know my opinion. Well, I don't care; I'll tell you out plump what I think of everything. The place is horrid, and so are the people. I wish-oh! I wish I was back again on the ranch with mother."

Jasper looked down rather scornfully at the small girl, who, in a rich and elaborately embroidered dressing-gown, was kneeling by the fire.

Evelyn's handsome eyes, the only really good feature she possessed, were fixed full upon her maid's face.

"The Castle is too stiff for me," she said, "and too-too airified and high and mighty. Mother was quite right when she spoke of Castle Wynford. I don't care for anybody in the place except Uncle Ned. I don't know how I shall live here. Oh Jasper, don't you remember the evenings at home? Cannot you recall that night when Whitefoot was ill, and you and mothery and I had to sit up all through the long hours nursing her, and how we thought the dear old moo-cow would die! Don't you remember the mulled cider and the gingerbread and the doughnuts and the apple-rings? How we toasted the apple-rings by the fire, and how they spluttered, and how good the hot cider was? And don't you remember how mothery sang, and how you and I caught each other's hands and danced, and dear old Whitefoot looked up at us with her big, sorrowful eyes? It is true that she died in the morning, but we had a jolly night. We'll never have such times any more. Oh, I do wish my own mothery had not died and gone to heaven! Oh, I do wish it-I do!"

Evelyn crossed her arms tightly on her breast and began to sway herself backwards and forwards. Tears streamed from her eyes; she did not attempt to wipe them away.

"Now then, it is my turn to speak," said Jasper. "I tell you what it is, Eve; you are about the biggest goose that was ever born in this world.

Who would compare that stupid, rough old ranch with this lovely, magnificent house? And it is your own, Eve-or rather it will be your own. I took a good stare at the Squire, and I do not believe he will live to be very old; and whenever he dies you are to take possession-you and I together, Eve love-and out will go her ladyship, and out will go proud Miss Audrey. That will be a fine day, darling-a day worth living for."

"Yes," said Evelyn slowly; "and then we'll alter things. We'll make the Castle something like the ranch. We'll get over some of our friends, and they shall live in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Petrie, who keep the egg-farm not a mile from the ranch, and Mr. Thomas Longchamp and Pete and d.i.c.k and Tom and Michael. I told them all when I was going away that when I was mistress of the Castle they should come, and we'll go on much as we went on at the ranch. If mothery up in heaven can see me she will be glad. But, Jasper, why do you speak in that scornful way of my cousin Audrey? I think she is very beautiful. I think she is quite the most beautiful girl I have ever looked at. As to her being stately, she cannot help being stately. I wish I could walk like her, and talk like her, and speak like her; I do, Jasper-I do really."

"Let me see," said Jasper in a contemplative tone. "You are learning to love her, ain't you?"

"I don't love easily. I love my own darling mothery, who is not dead at all, for she is in heaven with father; and I love you, Jasper, and my uncle Edward."

"My word! and why him?"

"I cannot help it; I love him already, and I'll love him more and more the longer I see him and the more I know him. My father must have been like that-a gentleman-a perfect gentleman. Oh! I was happy at the ranch, and mothery was like no one else on the wide earth, but it gave me a sort of quiver down my spine when Uncle Edward took my hand, and when he kissed me. He is like what father was. Had father lived I'd have spent all my days here, and I'd have been perhaps quite as graceful as Audrey, and nearly as beautiful."

"You will never be like her, so you need not think it. You are squat like your mother, and you ain't got a decent feature in your face except your eyes, and even they are only big, not dark; and your hair is skimpy and your face white. You are a sort of mix'um-gather'um-a sort of betwixt-and-between-neither very fair nor very dark, neither very short nor very tall. You are thick-set, just the very image of your mother, and you will always be thick-set and always mix'um-gather'um as long as you live. There! I have spoken. I ain't going to be afraid of you. You had better get into bed now, for it is late. You want your beauty-sleep, and you won't get it unless you are quick. Now march! Put on your night-dress and step into bed."

"I have got to say my prayers first," said Evelyn, "and--" She paused and looked full at her maid. "I have got to say something else. If you talk like that I won't love you any more. You are not to do it. I won't have it."

"Won't she, then?" said Jasper. Her whole manner changed. "And have I hurt her-have I-the little dear? Come to me, my darling. Why, you are all trembling! Did you think I meant a word I said? Don't you know that you are the jewel of my eyes and the core of my heart and all the rest?

Did your mother leave you to me for nothing, and would I ever leave you, sweetest and best? And if it is squat you are, there is no one like you for determination and fire of spirit. Eh, now, come to my arms and I'll rock the bitterness out of you, for it is puzzled you are, and fretted you are, and you shall not be-no, you shall not be either one or the other ever again while old Jasper lives."

Evelyn's eyes, which had flashed an almost ugly fire, now softened. She looked at Jasper as if she meant to resist her. Then she wavered, and came almost totteringly across the room, and the next moment the strange woman had clasped the girl to her embrace and was rocking her backwards and forwards, Evelyn's head lying on her breast just as if she were a baby.

"Now then, that's better," said Jasper. "I'll undress you as though we were back again on the ranch, and when you are snug and safe in your little white bed we'll have a bit of fun."

"Fun!" said Evelyn. "What?"

"Don't you know how you like a stolen supper? I have got chocolate here, and a little pot, and a jug of cream, and a saucepan, and I'll make a rich cup for you and another for myself; and here's a box of cakes, all sorts and very good. While you are sipping your chocolate I'll take off Miss Audrey and Lady Frances for you. The door is locked; no one can see us. We'll be as snug as snug can be, and we'll have our fun just as if we were back at the ranch."

Evelyn was now all laughter and high spirits. She had no idea of restraining herself. She called Jasper her honey and her honey-pot, and kissed the good woman several times. She superintended the making of the chocolate with eager words and many directions. Finally, a cup of the rich beverage was handed to her, and she sipped it, luxuriously curled up against her snowy pillows, and ate the sweet cakes, and watched Jasper with happy eyes.

"So it is Miss Audrey you'd like to take after?" said Jasper. "You think you are not a patch on her. To be sure not-wait and we'll see."

In an instant Jasper had transformed her features to a comical resemblance of Audrey's. She spoke in mincing tones, with just sufficient likeness to Audrey to cause Evelyn to scream with mirth. She took light, quick steps across the room, and imitated Audrey's very words. All of a sudden she changed her manner. She now resembled Miss Sinclair, putting on the slightly precise language of the governess, adjusting her shoulders and arranging her hands as she had seen Miss Sinclair do for a brief moment that evening. Her personation of Miss Sinclair was as good as her personation of Audrey, and Evelyn became so excited that she very nearly spilt her chocolate. But her crowning delight came when all of a sudden, without the slightest warning, Jasper became Lady Frances herself. She now sailed rather than walked across the apartment; her tones were stately and slow; her manner was the sort which might inspire awe; her very words were those of Lady Frances. But the delighted maid believed that she had a further triumph in store, for, with a quick change of mien, she now had the audacity to personate the Squire himself; but in one instant, like a flash, Evelyn was out of bed. She put down her chocolate-cup and rushed towards Jasper.

"The others as much as you like," she said, "but not Uncle Ned. You dare not. You sha'n't. I'll turn you away if you do. I'll hate you if you do.

The others over and over again-they are lovely, splendid, grand-it puts heart in me to see you-but not Uncle Ned."

Jasper looked in astonishment at the little girl.

"So you love him as much as that already?" she said. "Well, as you please, of course."

"Don't be cross, Jasper," said Evelyn. "I can stand all the others; I can even like them. I told Audrey to-night how splendidly you can mimic, and you shall mimic her to her face when I know her better. Oh, it is killing-it is killing! But I draw the line at Uncle Ned."

CHAPTER V.-FRANK'S EYES.

Evelyn did not get up to breakfast the following morning. Breakfast at the Castle was a rather stately affair. A loud, musical gong sounded to a.s.semble the family at a quarter to nine; then all those who were not really ill were expected to appear in the small chapel, where the Squire read prayers morning after morning before the a.s.sembled household. After prayers, visitors and family alike trooped into the comfortable breakfast-room, where a merry and hearty meal ensued. To be absent from breakfast was to insure Lady Frances's displeasure; she had no patience with lazy people. And as to lazy girls, her horror of them was so great that Audrey would rather bear the worst cold possible than announce to her mother that she was too ill to appear. Evelyn's absence, therefore, was commented on with a very grave expression of face by both the Squire and his wife.

"I must speak to her," said Lady Frances. "It is the first morning, and she does not understand our ways, but it must not occur again."

"You will not be too hard on the child, dear," said her husband.

"Remember she has never had the advantage of your training."

"Poor little creature!" said Lady Frances. "That, indeed, my dear Edward, is plain to be seen."

She bridled very slightly. Lady Frances knew that there was not a more correct trainer of youth in the length and breadth of the county than herself. Audrey, who looked very bright and handsome that morning, ventured to glance at her mother.

"Perhaps Evelyn is dressed and does not know that we are at breakfast,"

she said. "May I go to her room and find out?"

"No, Audrey, not this morning. I shall go to see Evelyn presently. By the way, I hope you are ready for your visitors?"