and heard of it, for I thought it would be just the place for Kate; and I must say I felt a little vexed as well as disappointed that you did not come to see me last Monday week about it."

The widow stared at her visitor. "I never knew that I was expected," she said.

"Has not Kate told you since, that she forgot to deliver my message when she came home on Sunday? I told her to ask you to call and see me on Monday morning, for I could not conveniently leave home on that day, and I had promised Lady Hazeldean she should see you and Kate as soon as possible."

"And Kate knew that and never told me!" gasped the widow.

"No, no, perhaps if I had explained it all to her she would not have forgotten it, but I could not do that in school, and so I merely told her I wished to see you on Monday morning," said Miss Eldon, quickly.

"Kate, how could you have forgotten such a message?" said her mother, sharply.

But Kate stood with downcast face, and said not a word.

"You must not be angry, Mrs. Haydon; it was excusable, I am sure, if you had just received these London letters," said the lady, gently.

"I don't see how she could have forgotten such a message," said the widow, in the same vexed tone. "Did you know what I was wanted for, Kate?" she demanded, turning once more to her daughter.

But Miss Eldon answered for her: "Oh, no; she could not have known it, and so I am the only one to blame in this business," she said.

Kate felt very grateful to her teacher for thus helping her out of the difficulty, and vowed in her own mind that she would never act so deceitfully again. No, never again would she follow such a crooked path, and deceive her mother, for it was deceit; now she saw it quite plainly. But still she was afraid to confess the whole truth about the matter.

After Miss Eldon had gone, she had an opportunity of doing this, for her mother said: "Now, Kate, tell me the whole truth about this affair."

"The truth, mother?" repeated Kate. "Teacher told you the whole truth."

"But how could you forget such an important message as this, when you knew it was just what I was wishing for you to get—a nice quiet place near home?"

"But teacher did not say a word about the place that Sunday afternoon," said Kate, in an injured tone.

"But you might have known—might have guessed—what it was likely to be about. It is not as though Miss Eldon was in the habit of sending for me. She never did such a thing before."

"But still, how was I to know she had heard of a place at last? I have been waiting months and months, and nothing has come."

"I know that; but still how you could forget that Sunday afternoon, when you came home and found me in such trouble about your going to London, is more than I can understand."

Miss Eldon's visit.

But the foolish girl persisted in declaring that she had forgotten all about the message, in spite of her mother's frequently expressed doubts, soothing her conscience by assuring herself that this should be a warning to her never to do so again. Kate felt quite sure about this; let the temptation be what it might, she never would yield to it again, as she had done in this instance, for it had made her miserable.

But I am not sure that Kate felt sorry enough for her fault yet to wish it undone. When she went up to bed that night, instead of kneeling down and confessing her sin to God, and asking His forgiveness, and His grace to keep her in the future, she peeped into the box that stood ready packed, and thought with a feeling of triumph that she was going to London after all, and her mother would forget all this fuss that had been made about her teacher's message when she heard how well she was getting on there; and so full was Kate's heart of these thoughts that she jumped into bed without kneeling at her bedside, but still feeling quite confident that she would never act again as she had done, now that she had got her own way, and was sure of going to London.

CHAPTER III.

IN LONDON.

t was night when Kate reached London, but her uncle was waiting for her at the railway station, and she and her luggage were soon stowed away in a cab, and they were rattling through the brilliantly-lighted streets. To Kate's unaccustomed eyes it was like fairyland for a few minutes, and she thought she had indeed been fortunate to obtain a place in one of these grand shops.

But she soon found there were streets in London almost as dimly lighted as their own village streets at home, and shops much less grand and imposing than those she had first seen.

At last the cab stopped, and Kate saw, to her disappointment, that it was not a broad, fashionable thoroughfare, and the shop, with its piles of buns and loaves of bread, was by no means imposing, but rather old-fashioned in its appearance, and the whole street was the same, although there were a great number of people about, and everybody seemed in such a hurry that Kate made up her mind there must be a fire or some accident must have happened, near at hand. All this passed through her mind, as her box was being lifted from the roof of the cab, as she stood on the pavement looking up and down the busy, old-fashioned street, that was so unlike what she had fancied her new home would be.

Her cousin Marion was behind the counter in the shop, and there seemed to be a constant stream of customers coming and going. "This is the best bun house in London," whispered her uncle, as he took her hand and led her in.

The old lady, who was likewise serving, left her post when she saw Kate and her uncle, and led the way into the cosy parlour behind the shop. She seemed pleased with Kate's appearance and manner, and asked her a great many questions about her home and her mother.

"We are very quiet, old-fashioned people, ourselves," she said, "although we live in London, and I am very particular about the young people I have to help me in the shop, and never allow them to make friends among the customers. Be civil to all, but nothing more than that to anyone, my dear; that is my rule, and you must remember to obey it. Marion knows I am more strict about this than anything else, and so I hope you will remember it, too."

"Yes, ma'am, I will," said Kate; and then the old lady asked the servant to bring up some supper, and went back to the shop, that Marion might come in and speak to her father and cousin.

"I am to give you some supper, and then take you to bed," said Marion, after their greetings were over. "You will have some supper with us, father?—Mrs. Maple told me to ask you."

"No, thank you, my dear, I want to get home, and you girls don't need me now. I have told Kate she is always to spend the Sunday with us, the same as you do."

"Oh, yes, of course she will," said Marion. "You see that is one advantage of being in an old-fashioned shop like this; we have no Sunday work," she said, turning to her cousin.

"Mother will be glad to know that," said Kate.

"Yes, you must tell her when you write," said her uncle, bidding her good-bye.

When he was gone the girls sat down to supper, and Kate tried to eat, but everything was so strange, and she had such an intense longing to see her mother, that she said "yes" and "no" to her cousin's questions, scarcely understanding what they were.

The next morning, however, she felt a good deal better, and by the end of the week began to feel quite at home, for Mrs. Maple was not a hard mistress, and so Kate was able to give a good account