class="pnext">Let me describe Lena Graham to you, as she stands, sniffing up the fresh air that brings the healthy roses into her cheeks, and gives her a hearty appetite for the bread-and-butter that she is only waiting for Aunt Mary's appearance to attack with good-will.

A sturdy little English girl, rather short for her age, with rosy cheeks and bright intelligent brown eyes, that glance here, there, and everywhere; long light-brown hair, tied back from her face with a blue ribbon, that matches in colour the blue serge dress she wears. The face has a bright, open expression, and the girl's whole appearance speaks of the happy, peaceful life she leads. Shading her eyes with her hand from the sun, she looks about attentively.

"Yes," she remarks to herself in a low voice, "I can get plenty for both rooms without spoiling the garden. I think Mama shall have the violets, and Milly the primroses; and I shall ask Auntie to let me run to the fields and get some cowslips for Lucy; and Papa shall have some of all, because he is the only man." Here her meditations were broken into by hearing Auntie's voice calling—

"Lena, Lena, where are you, dear child?"

"Here; Auntie; it's such a lovely day, do come out just for one minute."

"It must be only for one minute then," said her Aunt as she joined her. "Yes, it is a lovely day. We can welcome Papa and Mama with both sunshine and smiles."

"Sunshine in doors and out," said Lena, with a beaming look as they entered the house together.

Lena always did lessons with her Aunt, but to-day was to be a holiday, for Miss Somerville saw that the child was too excited and nervous to settle down quietly to work; and besides that, there was a good deal to be done in the way of preparation for the expected travellers, for it was not often that so large a party as four people came to visit their quiet household.

They were not expected until five o'clock, so Lena had the whole day before her to wonder and speculate in. The morning passed away quickly, as time always does when one is busy and occupied, and in the afternoon Lena was to arrange the flowers in the different rooms. Aunt Mary quite approved of the arrangement Lena had made as to the ones each was to have, though she asked why Lena had chosen those especial ones.

"Violets for Mama, because they are so sweet; and they are getting scarce now, you know, Auntie: they are nearly over in the garden."

"I didn't know that."

"Why, Auntie, we have picked them all; I wish I had not now. And then primroses for Milly, because they are my favourite flower, and I want her to like all I do."

"Or you could like what she does?"

"But she must like primroses, she couldn't help it; then cowslips for Lucy, they are nearly as nice as primroses; but I want Milly to have the nicest, because she's to be my great friend; and I thought Papa ought to have some of all." Here Lena stopped, and looked at her Aunt for approval.

"Very well, dear; come out and get them."

"And may I arrange them?"

"Yes, and put them in the different rooms."

"Thank you, Auntie dear. And then may I put on my best dress? I do want to look nice when they come."

"Yes, darling," said Miss Somerville with a smile. Then she went to the window and watched the child as she gathered the flowers, flitting from one place to another, as busy as a bee, looking up every now and then, to nod smilingly to her Aunt, or to hold up her treasures to be admired.

No fear, she thought, of her parents or any one not thinking her nice, as Lena had expressed it. She smiled to herself as she thought of the happiness of the parents at getting back the child from whom they had so long been parted; and much as she would miss the cheerful, loving little companion who had brightened her lonely life, she felt it would be better for Lena herself to take her place once more among young companions. In the nursery or the school-room, where there are two or three together, it is, as it were, a little world of its own. No one in particular can have the entire care and thought of the whole household. All must take their place and their share both in the duties and pleasures of everyday life. This was exactly what had been wanting to Lena, and hers was a character that especially required it. It is so very easy for any one of us to accustom ourselves to be the first to be considered, and Lena was no exception to this. She had a warm, loving heart, but a proud, wilful temper; humility was a grace she sadly lacked. A loving word from Auntie would bring the ready tears to Lena's eyes, but what she considered a hard or disparaging word would make them flash as quickly. How she and Millicent would get on together, was rather an anxious thought to Miss Somerville, for dearly as she loved her little niece, she was not blind to her faults; and if the sisters were alike in character, there would not, she feared, be always peace. Lena had a very decided opinion on the subject of elder sisters, and that she was the eldest of the family, she always made a point of dwelling upon.

Neither a cloud nor a doubt crossed the child's own mind as to the future. Of course Millicent and Lucy would love her as much as she was prepared to love them, and they would all be so happy together, she knew. The only shadow was the thought that she would have to part with dear Aunt Mary; but as that parting was not to be at once, she cast the thought away with the happy ease of childhood.

CHAPTER II.

THE ARRIVAL.

As it struck five by the drawing-room clock, Lena threw open the hall-door and ran to the gate; and opening it, she went out and gazed eagerly down the road.

Scarsdale Villa, as Aunt Mary's house was called, was built on the top of a long hill that ran straight down into the town. As Lena now stood, the town itself seemed to be at her feet, and beyond the houses lay the sea, stretching away into the distance, far as the eye could reach, and now sparkling in the bright spring sunshine. But its beauty was quite thrown away upon Lena; her eager gaze was fixed on one particular spot on the road—the turning to the station.

She had not long to wait, for in a very few minutes she was gladdened by the sight of a cab, well covered with luggage, coming round the corner, and commencing the ascent of the hill.

At this sight, she turned and darted back into the house, calling loudly for "Auntie."

"Do you see them, dear?" Miss Somerville asked.

"There's a cab coming this way, and it has luggage; it must be them, I am sure. Do come out and look." Taking her Aunt's hand, they went out together and watched the well-laden cab as it came slowly up the hill.

Often and often had Lena grumbled at that weary hill, when she came home, tired-out after a long afternoon's ramble on the sands, or a walk into Meadenham, but never before had she thought it so long and tedious as that day. She watched the cab come "creeping along," as she called it.

Then as it drew very near, a new fit came over her—a