sewing-machine at least, and make flannel petticoats for the poor;
anything, Constantia, only don't for Heaven's sake sit there with
your hands in your lap, listening to the gabble of fools, while Mrs.
Rayner touches up a curl here and a frill there, from morning till
night, for ever and ever.

But now to other things, for indeed I am not in the fault-finding
mood you might suppose. Only, as you know well, I can always worry
about you, at any time.

Well, I have seen my wood-sprite again, this very morning. I could
not sleep after six, although I twice covered up my head with the
bed-clothes and made believe I was not awake; so I got up, and the
young sun was so beautiful, driving the mists out of the valley,
that I went out.

Between the flower garden and the park, there lies a shrubbery;
green paths wind in and out between high walls of box and laurel,
leading one at length to a little blue door in an old wall. Well, I
was stepping along between the evergreens as fast as the moss on the
pebbles would let me, swinging my hat round as I went, and singing
loudly, when I thought I heard footsteps round the bend of the path.
I turned the corner--nobody; only a little scrambling sound, and the
treacherous flutter of a branch in the laurel hedge. Of course I
immediately thought of poachers, and in my imagination already saw
Emilia Fletcher stretched a lifeless corpse upon the ground. I took
three backward steps, then paused. Silence and stillness reigned.

Pooh! thought I, it's nothing, and with a bold, swift step I walked
past the fearful spot. No sooner had I passed than there came