and shot a robin--at least, I suppose it was him for I don't
know who else should have done it-- and his gun's standing by--
and then he's gone and picked it ma'am--picked the feathers
off, and they 're lyin' all round; and then he washed it in
the lake, and he was hard to suit, for he walked a good way up
the lake before he found a place where he _would_ wash it; and
now he's made a fire and stuck up the bird and roasted it; and
why he didn't get me or Miss Miller to do it I don't
comprehend. And he's got plates and things, ma'am, and salt,
ma'am, and bread; and that's what _he_ means, sir; and he want's
to know if you're ready. The bird's all done.'

Wych Hazel looked anything but ready. She was very young in
the world's ways, very new to her own popularity, and somehow
Mrs. Saddler's story touched her sensitiveness. The shy,
shrinking colour and look told of what at six years old would
have made her hide her face under her mother's apron. No such
refuge being at hand, however, and she obliged to face the
world for herself, as soon as she had despatched a very
dignified message to Mr. Rollo, the young lady's feeling
sought relief in irritation.

'I suppose _I_ am not to blame this time, for making myself
conspicuous, sir! Have you given me up as a bad bargain, Mr.
Falkirk?'

'It can't be helped, my dear,'--said her guardian somewhat
dryly, and soberly too. 'I think however it is rather somebody
else who is making himself conspicuous at this time.'