seriousness not usual at her age, though she was by no means lacking in the capacity for childish fun on the rare occasions when she was free to indulge in it.

She was ten years old at this time, and she was not taller than many children are at seven or eight; but there was a thoughtful look upon the small face and in the big gray eyes which was different from what is generally to be seen in the eyes of children of that age.

"Two little boys!" repeated Esther gravely; "they will be my cousins, I suppose. How old are they, and what are their names, mama?"

"The elder is nine, and the other rather more than a year younger. He does not mention their names, but I know the elder is called Philip, after our grandfather. I'm not quite sure about the second. Arthur is such a very bad correspondent, and poor Ada died when the second boy was born. You see it was like this, Esther. The grandmother on the mother's side kept house for him, and took care of the children after their mother died—she was living with him then. She died a year ago, and things have been going on in the same groove at his house. But now comes this appointment abroad, and he can neither take the boys nor leave them at home alone. They are not fit for school yet, he says. Of course they are not ready for public school, but I should have thought they might—well, never mind that. What he says is that they want taking in hand by a good governess or tutor, and suggests that they should come to me, and that I should find such a person, and that you should share the lessons, and get a good start with your education."

Esther's eyes began to sparkle beneath their long black lashes. She had an ardent love of study, and hitherto she had only been able to pick up such odd crumbs as were to be had from the desultory teaching of her mother, or from the study of such books as she could lay hands upon in that little-used room that was called the study, though nobody ever studied there save herself.

In her father's lifetime Esther had been well grounded, but since his death her education had been conducted in a very haphazard fashion. She had a wonderful thirst after knowledge, and in her leisure hours would almost always be found poring over a book; but of real tuition she had now hardly any, and the thought of a regular governess or tutor made her eyes sparkle with joy.

"O mama! could we?"

"Could we what, Esther?"

"Have a governess or tutor here as well as two boys?"

"Not in the house itself, of course. But he or she could lodge in the place, I suppose, and come every day. Your uncle is very liberal in his ideas, Esther. He is going to let his own big house. He has had an offer already, and he suggests paying over three or four hundred pounds a year to me, if I will undertake the charge of the two boys. Of course that would make it all very easy in some ways."

Esther's eyes grew round with wonder. She knew all about her mother's affairs, and how difficult it sometimes was to keep everything in the dainty state of perfection expected, upon the small income they inherited. To have this income doubled at a stroke, and only two boys to keep and a tutor's salary to pay out of it! Why, that would be a wonderful easing of many burdens which weighed heavily sometimes upon Esther's youthful shoulders. She had often found it so difficult to satisfy her delicate mother's wishes and whims, and yet to keep the weekly bills down to the sum Genefer said they ought not to exceed.

"O mama, what a lot of money!"

"Your uncle is a well-to-do man, my dear, and he truly says that terms at good private schools, where the holidays have to be provided for as well, run into a lot of money. And he does not think the boys are fit for school yet. He says they want breaking in by a tutor first. They have had a governess up till now, but he thinks a tutor would be better, especially as there is no man in this house. I hope he does not mean that the boys are very naughty and troublesome. I don't know what I shall do with them if they are."

The lady sighed, and looked at Esther in that half helpless way which always went to the little girl's heart. She bent over and kissed her brow.

"Never mind, mama dear. I will take care of the boys," she said, in her womanly way. "They are both younger than I. I think it will be nice to have regular lessons again. I think papa would have been pleased about that. And perhaps I shall like having boys to play with too; only it will be strange at first."

"We could keep a girl, then, to help Genefer and Janet," said Mrs. St. Aiden. "The boys will have to have the big attic up at the top of the house, and the study to do lessons in. I hope they will not be very noisy; and there is the garden to play in. But they must not break the flowers, or take the fruit, or spoil the grass, or cut up the gravel. You will have to keep them in order, Esther. I can't have the place torn up by a pair of riotous boys."

"I will take care of them, mama dear," answered Esther bravely, though her heart sank just a little at the thought of the unknown element about to be introduced into her life. She had had so little experience of boys—there was only little Herbert at the rectory who ever came here, and he was quite good, and under the care of his elder sisters. Would these boys let her keep them in order as Bertie was kept by Prissy and Milly? She hoped they would, and she said nothing of her misgivings to her mother.

"Do you think you will say 'yes' to Uncle Arthur?"

"I think I must, my dear. I don't like to refuse; and, of course, there are advantages. Your education has been a difficulty. I have not the health myself, and we cannot afford a governess for you, and this is the first time Arthur has ever asked me to do anything for him. And, really, I might be able to keep a little pony carriage, and get out in the summer, with this addition to our income. I always feel that if I could get out more I should get back my health much quicker."

Esther's eyes sparkled again at these words, and a little pink flush rose in her cheeks. It was the thing of all others she had always wished for her mother—a dear little pony, and a little low basket carriage in which she could drive her out.

In father's days they had had one, and Esther had been allowed to drive the quiet pony when she was quite a little child. But that belonged to the old life, before the father had been taken away and they had come here to live, right down in Cornwall, at this little quaint Hermitage, as the house was called. Since then no such luxury could be dreamed of. It had been all they could do to make ends meet, and keep the mother content with what could be done by two maids, and one man coming in and out to care for the garden. And even so, Esther often wondered how they would get on, if it were not for all that Mr. Trelawny did for them.

"O mama!" she cried, "could we really have a pony again?"

"We will think about it. I should like to, if we could. It seems a pity that that nice little stable should stand empty; and there is the little paddock too. The pony could run there when he wasn't wanted, and that would save something in his keep. I have always been used to my little drives, and I miss them very much. But, of course, I shall not make up my mind in a hurry. I should like to see Mr. Trelawny about it all even before I write to Uncle Arthur."

A little shadow fell over Esther's face. She felt sure she knew what was coming.

"I wish, dear, you would just run up to the Crag and ask Mr. Trelawny if he would come down and see me about this."

The shadow deepened as the words were spoken, but Esther