"And if you will first be my horse, I'll be very good indeed."

"No, I am busy, and you must stay quietly here,” said she, declining Poppy's gracious offer.

"You always say you are busy when papa has been scolding you; and what do you want Willie to wait for?"

"Never mind, dear."

"Will you come back soon and go into the garden? "

66 Perhaps."

And so she got away, back to her room again. A small box was packed, and I regret to say no less than three dresses were numberless other things. she was counting up the calculating the price of the train, when Bessy the housemaid appeared.

crushed into it, besides Her bonnet was on, and contents of her purse and

"Willie canna be fashed to wait long: what do ye want wi' him, Miss Georgina?

"To take this little box to the station."

"What for? and where are ye off to wi' your best bonnet on?"

"Oh! Bessy, don't trouble me now: it need not concern you in the least."

"Ye've been gettin' your scolds from the master or the mistress, I guess."

Georgy stood very irresolute: was she to im

plore Bessy's connivance-give her something-own to "gettin' her scolds," or what?

"What's come to ye, Miss Georgina? you've been crying."

"I am going to my other aunt's; but really, Bessy, you need not know anything about it."

Bessy would, however.

"Not to Miss Sparrow's?"

"Yes, to Miss Sparrow's."

"Eh! but she's a' London," Bessy chanted rather than said, in her astonishment.

"Yes, she is there, and I am going to see her, at least for a while. I won't be denied, Bessy; I must take this box down myself, for I don't want to get you into trouble, and the less you ask about it the better."

"I am not afraid of what nobody says to me," said Bessy, disdainfully. She was as free-spoken as the raw, unsophisticated, north country servants always are; for this was her first place, and she hated the mistress and liked Georgy.

"But ye'll be coming back, I suppose just tell me about it."

"I don't know, I am sure. I am going straight to my aunt's; I can tell nothing else."

"Well, I'll not be saying anything; ye know best, Miss Georgy. Eh! but the mistress, she is hard upon ye: she's been fighting you, I know."

.

"Yes, she has; but Bessy, let me go, that's a good woman."

66

'Well, come along, never mind what they say to me: you can't carry the box, Miss Georgy."

There was a sulky, rude kindness about Bessy that made it difficult to offer her money, so Georgy only shook hands with her, and thanked her. Bessy made over the box to Willie, with orders to take it and Miss Sandon to the station.

"You must let me know if you get into trouble about me, Bessy," said she.

"The mistress had better not be too sharp with me; the situation does not please me over well, and I'm not over anxious to stop: she'll not get another quickly, to do all as I have done."

66

66

Good-bye, Bessy."

Good-bye, Miss Georgina, and I'll maybe let you know if me and the mistress has any disagreement." Bessy stood defiantly at the door till Georgy was out of sight, and then walked stolidly back to her work, rather pleased at this opportunity of contradicting the mistress. Willie Anderson was not conversible, or curious; he asked no questions, but merely made one or two local observations as they drove along. He deposited Georgy at the station, and before the sun had set, she was on her road to London.

CHAPTER XII.

It

A LONG, strange night she passed, being far too excited to sleep, and a vivid recollection of every thing which had ever happened to her passing through her brain. How had she lived so long at Grainthorpe? that was the puzzle to her now. How she had not gone-gone no matter how, and why, long ago-she could not understand. appeared to be another self that had lived so long at Grainthorpe. Gradually the grey morning began to appear, and her sleepy companions to arouse themselves, as the journey's end approached. Her only distinct idea was, that this was London: London, where, if she did not believe the streets were paved with gold, she fancied that all intellectual life and riches were to be found.

She had never been in London since she was a child; and now, as she watched that dark, smoky mass, and could see but a small part of that region of buildings, her heart beat quicker: she knew that she should soon be there," in amongst the throngs of men;" there, in the midst of that life-giving strife

and tumult, to be amongst which only would make her a participator therein. What a world of enthusiasm is sometimes poured forth upon that dark, dense city, and what strange contrasts it contains! How the fulness of its life, and the depth of its sufferings appear as foils one to the other in their intensity.

She nearly lost her luggage at the station, for she was bewildered by the noise and bustle, and very glad to find a temporary refuge at the Station Hotel. Here she counted the hours until she thought that she might set out to her aunt's. She did not want rest, but was so excited and confused, that she liked to sit idly and reflect, and dreaded the occupation of keeping up a conversation. She did not fear a rebuff, for she felt confident that the kind-hearted old lady would receive her well.

She left her things at the hotel; for there was a sort of awkwardness in arriving with them and asking to be admitted, and she preferred leaving them to be sent for afterwards. It was well she did so, for, on arriving at ——— Street, Miss Sparrow was not there. Since her favourite niece's departure, whom she liked to be near, she had removed to another house. Georgy felt angry at her neglect of foresight she might have gone to her aunt's own house first; she knew that this was not her permanent residence, and she need not be surprised. Her little stock of money was getting low, and anxious to be