yet so truly humble. I confess I love her as though she were a
daughter of my own." Fancy being Mrs. Smedley's daughter! Happily,
for their own sakes, she had no children. "Augustus feels just the
same; he thinks so highly of her. Would you believe it, Mr. Lucas,
that though she is a daily governess like her sister," with a sharp
glance at poor little miserable me, "that that dear devoted girl
takes house to house visitation in that dreadful Nightingale lane and
Rowley street?" Was it my fancy, or did Mr. Lucas shrug his shoulders
dubiously at this? As Mrs. Smedley paused here a moment, as though
she expected an answer, he muttered, "Very praiseworthy, I am sure,"
in a slightly bored tone.

"She has a class in the Sunday-school besides, and now she gives two
evenings a week to Mr. Smedley's night school. She is a pattern to
all the young ladies of the place, as I do not fail to tell them."

Why Mr. Lucas looked at me at that moment I do not know, but
something in my face seemed to strike him, for he said, in a curious
sort of tone, that meant a great deal, if I had only understood it:

"You do not follow in your sister's footsteps, then, Miss Cameron?"

"No, I do not," I answered abruptly, far too abruptly, I am afraid;
"human beings cannot be like sheep jumping through a hedge--if one
jumps, they all jump, you know."

"And you do not like that," with a little laugh, as though he were
amused.

"No, I must be sure it is a safe gap first, and not a short cut to