She pressed her hand to her heart as she spoke, a pang of keen pain had shot through it; she turned pale, and her eyes still blazed.

"I don't believe it a bit," she said. "I'll go and find father and ask him if its true; I know it isn't true."

"There's father coming into the field," said Boris. "Yes, it's true enough, but you can ask him."

"Well, my man," said the Squire, who came upon the scene at this moment, "your master has sent you for the colts, I suppose? Here they are, as----Why, what's the matter, Nell? How white you are, child, and--not so tight, Nell, not so tight, you're half strangling me! What is it, my love--what is it?"

"You haven't sold Robin and Joe, father?"

"Oh, now, my little girl"--the Squire began to pat Nell's trembling hands soothingly. He looked hard into her quivering face, then, bending down, whispered something in her ear.

No one else heard the words.

Nell's frantic grasp relaxed; she let her hands fall to her sides and looked piteously round.

Robin and Joe had both followed her across the paddock. Robin expected his russet apple--Joe looked for his canter with Nell on his back.

"There's a brave little girl," said her father. "'Pon my word, I wouldn't do it if I could help it."

"No, father dear; of course not."

"You're a plucky young 'un," said her father admiringly. Boris and Kitty came close; the grooms and the horse-dealer also approached. There was a sort of ring round Nell and the colts.

"Please, father, may I give Robin his apple?" she asked. "He has earned it. May he have it?"

The Squire nodded.

"Of course he may," he said; then he turned to the horse dealer.

"My little girl is fond of these creatures," he said. "I hope you will have patience for a moment or two."

The man touched his hat respectfully.

"Certainly, sir," he answered, "as long as the young lady likes; there's no manner of hurry, and perhaps little miss would like to have another canter. I never see'd no one sit so bird-like on a horse--never, in the whole of my born days."

"Do you hear that, Nell?" said her father. "Would you like another canter? I didn't know you could ride bare-backed."

She smiled up at him, a perfectly brave smile; there were no tears in her eyes, although there were black shadows under them, and her face was as white as a little snowflake.

Robin munched his apple, and Joe came close to Nell and rubbed his head against her shoulder.

She fed him also, to his own great surprise, for he did not think that he had earned a morsel, and then, without a word, turned and walked out of the paddock.

Boris ran after her.

"I say, Nell!" he exclaimed, panting. "Would you like a white rat? I have four, and I--I'll give you one if you'll promise not to forget to feed it."

Nell stood still when Boris made this offer, and looked down into his ruddy, brown, sunburnt face. Boris had bright eyes, as round as two moons. The giving up of one of his white rats meant a great deal to him.

Nell carefully weighed the value of the offer.

"No," she said at last in a deliberate tone. "I might forget to feed the rat, and I don't think I ever could love it; but thank you all the same, Boris."

"Don't mention it," said Boris, in his most polite tone; he was immensely relieved by Nell's declining his offer.

She walked slowly towards the house, and Boris turned to Kitty, who had followed him.

"I offered her a rat," he said; "but she wouldn't have it. Do you think she will be very bad for a bit?"

"Yes, I do," said Kitty. "She'll creep up into one of the lofts and burrow in the hay all by herself, and if she can have a right good cry perhaps she'll be better, but if she hasn't a cry, she'll fret awfully, and perhaps she'll turn sulky; but never mind about her now. I'm ever so glad she didn't take the rat. Let's run and feed them before we go to lessons."

"I wish there were no lessons," said Boris. "I hate them. I can't think what use they are. What can it matter in a big world like this, crowded up with boys and girls and men and women, whether I can spell right or not? _I_ don't mind, and I don't see why anyone else should bother."

"I like spelling," said Kitty, who had a very intelligent face. "If I were a man or an embryo man, which you are, Boris, I'd have ambition, and I'd try to get on. I'd like to walk over the heads of the other boys, if I were you, and to take their prizes from them, and to have father and mother looking on, and a lot of grand ladies and gentlemen all dressed in their best praising and cheering and bowing and smiling.

But boys are no good in these days. It's girls who do everything. Now, do be quick and let's feed the rats."

"You talk such nonsense," said Boris. "You don't suppose that ladies and gentlemen care whether boys and girls spell words right or not, and what rubbish you do say about best clothes and smiling and bowing."

"I don't," said Kitty, crossly; "it's you who talk rubbish. You have never been to school, so you can't possibly tell. You ask Nan Thornton, and she'll soon tell you what's done at school. Oh dear, oh dear, I wish I were at Lavender House instead of doing my lessons with stupid Jane Macalister!"

"You talk very dis'pectful," said Boris.

"Do I? I don't care. Oh, I _am_ glad you didn't part with the white rat!"

CHAPTER V.

NOT MISSED.

Jane Macalister was the governess. She was old--at least the Lorrimers considered her old--she wore spectacles, and her hair was slightly tinged with grey. She had a queer mixture of qualities. She was affectionate and narrow; she was devoted to her pupils, and thought she could best show her devotion by an unceasing round of discipline.

Fortunately, both for her and the little Lorrimers, this discipline never extended beyond the hours devoted to lessons. It never showed its stern visage in play hours, nor at meals, nor at night, nor on half holidays, nor on Sundays. During all these times, Jane was the intelligent and much belaboured companion. She was at everyone's beck and call. She was to be found here, there, and everywhere--darning the rent in Molly's frock, or helping Nora with her drawing, or trying to find a story-book for Nell which she had not already read at least six times, or healing the small squabbles with which Boris and Kitty helped to beguile the weary hours. Mrs. Lorrimer consulted her with regard to the cook and the servants generally. The Squire would shout to her to spare him a quarter of an hour in the study to see if he had totted up his accounts right. In short, Jane Macalister was as much part and parcel of the Lorrimer household as if she were really one of themselves. She was by no means educated up to the standard of the latter half of the nineteenth century, but what she did know, she knew thoroughly. She was methodical and helpful. The kind of person whom Mrs.

Lorrimer was fond of quoting as invaluable. The children, one and all, loved her as a matter of course, but, in school hours, their love was certainly mingled with awe. In school hours, Jane allowed no relaxing of the iron rod.

Kitty and Boris, having just heard the dismal sound of the schoolroom bell, started from their fascinating occupation of feeding the white rats and ran as fast as their small feet could carry them in the direction of the house. They went in by a side entrance, and with panting breath and hot little steps began to mount the spiral staircase which led to the schoolroom in the tower. They were late already, and they knew that they could not possibly escape bad marks for unpunctuality. They pushed open the green baize door which admitted them to the sanctum of learning and came in. All the other children whom Miss Macalister taught were already in the room. Kitty and Boris were the sole delinquents--the only ones in disgrace; even Elinor was present.

Their faces fell when they saw her. They had built great hopes on having at least Elinor's company in their disgrace. The swift thought had darted through both their minds that she would be safe to be extra naughty that morning, and in consequence would divert some of the storm of Jane Macalister's wrath from their devoted heads; but no, there she sat in her accustomed place, her hymn book open on her knee, marks of tears on her cheeks, it is true, but in all other respects she looked a provokingly model Elinor.

It was too bad; Kitty made a face at her across the schoolroom, and even Boris gave her a reproachful glance.

Jane Macalister fixed two awful spectacled eyes upon the culprits, and, scarlet blushes tingling in their cheeks, they took possession of their vacant chairs.

The children all sang their usual hymn, although Elinor's voice was a little husky and Boris held his book upside down.

"_All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful, The Lord G.o.d made them all._"

"I wonder if He really made that dreadful horsey man," thought Nell, as she looked out of the window.

Boris smothered a sigh as he reflected again over the problem which had often before puzzled his small head--Why G.o.d, when he made everything so beautiful, had forgotten to give Jane Macalister a beautiful temper in school hours?