leave it. Where is Robin this evening?"

"Robin--"

The answer was interrupted by the entrance of Robin himself. A short man
with a red face, somewhat obstinate-looking. His eye lighted up when he
saw Rachel; Mrs. Frost poured out the contents of her saucepan, which
appeared to be a compound of Scotch oatmeal and treacle. Rachel was
invited to take some, but declined. She lifted one of the children on
her knee--a pretty little girl named after herself. The child did not
seem well, and Rachel hushed it to her, bringing down her own sweet
face caressingly upon the little one's.

"So I hear as Mr. John Massingbird's a-going to London on a visit?"
cried Robin to his sister, holding out his basin for a second supply of
the porridge.

The question had to be repeated three times, and then Rachel seemed to
awake to it with a start. She had been gazing at vacancy, as if buried
in a dream.

"Mr. John? A visit to London? Oh, yes, yes; he is going to London."

"Do he make much of a stay?"

"I can't tell," said Rachel slightingly. A certain confidence had been
reposed in her at Verner's Pride; but it was not her business to make it
known, even in her father's home. Rachel was not a good hand at
deception, and she changed the subject. "Has there not been some
disturbance with the Dawsons to-day? Old Roy was at Verner's Pride this