A charming young lady of some twenty years was coming up the path. She
wore a scarlet cloak, its hood lined with white silk; a straw hat shaded
her fair face, blushing very much just now; in her dark-grey eyes might
be read vexation, as she addressed Mr. Grame.

"I hope Kate has not been rude? I hope you will excuse her heedlessness
in this place. She is but a little girl."

"It's only the new parson, Lucy," broke in Kate without ceremony. "He
says his name's Robert Grame."

"Oh, Kate, don't! How shall we ever teach you manners?" reprimanded the
young lady in much distress. "She has been greatly indulged, sir,"
turning to the clergyman.

"I can well understand that," he said, with a bright smile. "I presume
that I have the honour of speaking to the daughter of my patron--Captain
Monk?"

"No; Captain Monk is my uncle: I am Lucy Carradyne."

As the young clergyman stood, hat in hand, a feeling came over him that
he had never seen so sweet a face as the one he was looking at. Miss
Lucy Carradyne was saying to herself, "What a nice countenance he has!
What kindly, earnest eyes!"

"This little lady tells me her name is Kate."

"Kate Dancox," said Lucy, as the child danced away. "Her mamma was
Captain Monk's eldest daughter; she died when Kate was born. My uncle is