ape; but I cannot endure Sedley Archfield, mamma."

"If he lets another lad bear the blame of his malice he cannot
indeed be a good lad."

"So Charley and Lucy say," returned Anne. "We shall be glad to be
away from Winchester, for while Peregrine Oakshott torments slyly,
Sedley Archfield loves to frighten us openly, and to hurt us to see
how much we can bear, and if Charley tries to stand up for us,
Sedley calls him a puny wench, and a milksop, and knocks him down.
But, dear madam, pray do not tell what I have said to her ladyship,
for there is no knowing what Sedley would do to us."

"My little maid has not known before what boys can be!"

"No; but indeed Charles Archfield is quite different, almost as if
he had been bred in London. He is a very gentleman. He never is
rude to any girl, and he is courteous and gentle and kind. He
gathered walnuts for us yesterday, and cracked all mine, and I am to
make him a purse with two of the shells."

Mrs. Woodford smiled, but there was a short thrill of anxiety in her
motherly heart as her glance brought up a deeper colour into Anne's
cheeks. There was a reserve to bring that glow, for the child knew
that if she durst say that Charles called her his little sweetheart
and wife, and that the walnut-shell purse would be kept as a token,
she should be laughed at as a silly child, perhaps forbidden to make
it, or else her uncle might hear and make a joke of it. It was not
exactly disingenuousness, but rather the first dawn of maidenly
reserve and modesty that reddened her cheek in a manner her mother