myself, and now you must hasten, for the carriage will be at the door by ten, as we must not lose the cool part of the day for driving."

"Oh no, we will all manage to be ready by then, I am sure," rejoined Aunt Rossiter, cheerfully.

"Yes, we are sure to be ready, dear uncle," I cried, more warmly, perhaps, than I might otherwise have spoken. But my heart longed to say something to brighten his kind face, which was just then looking unusually grave, and Charlotte's general expression did not at that moment promise much in the way of concession. She seemed altogether too greatly disconcerted by the comfortless aspect of the breakfast-table to heed anything else.

Uncle smiled affectionately upon me, his fine, benevolent eyes kindling as he did so.

"Bear in mind what I am saying to you, my dear Lotty, when Susan calls you of a morning," he continued, again looking down on Charlotte; "remember that a sluggard in body is sure to be a sluggard in soul; remember that to win that prize which is above all price you must be active and energetic; remember what St. Paul says about those that strive or run to obtain a corruptible crown, and how he speaks of incorruptible. 'So run that ye may obtain.'"

Uncle then left the room without waiting for an answer, reiterating his request, however, as he went out, that we would be in time.

"Oh yes, dear uncle, depend upon it we will," I again repeated.

"Speak for yourself, Mechie, and don't undertake to answer for others," Lotty said in a quiet, half-sulky voice; "I will not promise by any means to be ready by ten, seeing I have only just begun my breakfast, and have, as you know, a very particular objection to being hurried over my meals."

"If you are not ready by the time your uncle wishes to start, my dear Lotty, we shall be under the unpleasant necessity of going without you," answered Aunt Rossiter in a tone so serious and firm that Charlotte did not attempt to dispute it, and silently continued her breakfast. Aunt then left the room. How much I wished that Charlotte would eat with a little less deliberation! At this rate of proceeding, I thought, she certainly never can or will be ready by ten.

"Perhaps, while you are finishing—" I began, when she interrupted me, sharply:

"I beg to observe that I am only just beginning."

"Well, then, perhaps more correctly speaking, while you are eating your breakfast, had I not better run up and tell Susan what we are going to wear, that she may get all ready for us, so as not to lose time?"

"Do as you like."

"What shall she put out for you?"

"I don't know; I've not thought about it."

"Oh, but do think about it, Lotty, please do," I urged, coaxingly; "I am certain to be ready myself, but there is so little time now left, I fear, unless you hurry more, you will not be dressed when the carriage comes to the door, and oh, I can't say how vexed I should be to go without you."

"The vexation will all be on your side, then; I should not care a bit."

"Oh, Lotty, is it a matter of such indifference to you whether uncle and aunt are distressed by your behaviour, to say nothing of me?"

"If uncle chooses to fix the time of our destination at so unreasonably early an hour, he must care very little whether I come or not, and therefore is not likely to feel much distress one way or the other, and as aunt quite seconded him, she, of course, thinks the same."

"But, Lotty, you know that everybody who can manage it sets off as early as that, or sooner, when they have a long drive before them; besides, the principal point is to secure a good long day at Rathfelder's. However, I must not waste time in talking, but run and get everything as forward as circumstances will admit of."

"Pray do; it will be quite a relief to be rid of you in your present worrying mood," replied Charlotte, coldly.

I had an uncomfortable misgiving in my heart that Charlotte's more than indifference to the expedition, together with her unhappy fit of ill-humour (which, to do her justice, was not a kind of temper of frequent occurrence in her), would unite in rendering her so careless about coming that the carriage would be at the door before she had even quitted the breakfast-table. So I hurried up stairs and ran to lay the case, with as much consideration for Lotty as it admitted of, before our kind old nurse and good, sensible friend, Susan Bridget.

CHAPTER III.

A truly worthy old body was our nurse, Susan Bridget. Stern and hard of visage, firm and determined in disposition and of unpolished though perfectly respectful manners, she was nevertheless peculiarly sweet tempered, and possessed as kind a heart as ever beat within woman's breast. She had been our nurse from the period of our first becoming inmates of Fern Bank, and each year that passed her simple piety, fidelity and unaffected good sense raised her higher and higher in uncle and aunt's esteem. Although not exactly adapted to the position of lady's maid, aunt would not dismiss her as we grew older, feeling secure that in her was united to the duties of an orderly, industrious servant the true thoughtful care and anxiety of a Christian friend, and that she was, therefore, well fitted for an attendant upon two growing up, motherless girls like ourselves. Susan was certainly an old-fashioned and not always very grammatical speaker, but that seemed, I always thought, to enhance yet more the spirit and truth of her admonitions, of which she was very unsparing toward her nurslings when she considered them needed. I liked her quaint matter-of-fact mode of speech far better than many a more elegant style, for it brought her directly to the point with a kind of rough eloquence that at once struck at the understanding, leaving the delinquent no excuse to stand upon. She was quick and just in her perception of character, and altogether peculiarly fitted to deal with so capricious and whimsical a young damsel as dear, humoursome Charlotte. To say the truth, too, the latter, if she did not entertain more respect for the opinions and scoldings of nurse Susan, as she continued to be called, was greatly more afraid of her than of our gentle and kind guardians.

"I can't think, not I, why it is Miss Lotty will be always so contrary in her ways!" Susan exclaimed after listening with a disapproving face to my modified account of the morning's contretemps; "what's the good of it? can she tell me that? She gains nothing and loses a deal; she spoils the pleasure to herself of almost everything she does by her whimsies and silly tempers, and makes other folks uncomfortable too. She doesn't see how ugly and unpleasant it makes her in the eyes of her fellow-creatures, spoiling her looks and her manners, but more and worse than that, how sinful it makes her in the sight of God."

"I am so afraid," interposed I, "that she does not intend going at all to-day, Susan."

"Not going at all!" repeated Susan in a voice of stern amazement, stopping short in her preparations for our dressing and staring at me.

"She says it is too early to go, and she will not hurry herself," I replied.

"Not hurry herself! that's a pretty way of talking, and it's her uncle and aunt as wants her!" and Susan hastened from the room and down stairs, saying, as she went, "I'll just give her a bit of my mind, that's what I'll do."

Now, in what that bit of mind consisted I did not know exactly, though I pretty well guessed. Its administration proved much more speedily