a bright smile.

Sarah smiled also; she knew that the boy was too polite to add, "and not with the General!"

"You may go with Phyllis now," said Sarah. "Phyllis, lay the table for lunch—and mind, no wrinkles in the under cloth."

"Yes'm."

"May I help?" begged May. "Thomas often lets me. My brother puts on knives and forks as well as Thomas can, and I can do everything—side table and all. But that isn't so strange for me as it would be for a boy."

"For a boy?" Sarah looked dazed. "What are you but a boy?"

May's head dropped. "I don't really know—I'm not much of a boy," she faltered.

"You are enough of one not to be allowed to meddle with my china," laughed Sarah.

This evidence that Sarah did not suspect the truth was so gratifying that May, much to Sarah's surprise, clasped her affectionately around the waist and put up her face to be kissed. This embrace was witnessed with horror by Phyllis, who could not imagine any one safely taking such liberties with her mistress; her horror changed to astonishment when Sarah returned the caress.

"The world must be coming to an end," thought Phyllis, as she went into the dining room, with May at her heels. "I never saw Miss Sarah so melted—like—somebody will have to pay for it! She's like a pair of scales: when one is up in her opinion somebody else is way down."

When the young people were gone the General appeared at the library door; curiosity had conquered outraged dignity.

"What do you think of him?" he asked.

"He's a very nice boy," Sarah said.

"Manners of a clown!" growled the General.

"Very pretty manners," chirped Sarah, "modest and affectionate."

"What business has a boy with affectionate manners? A boy should have the manners of a gentleman."

"Of the 'old school?'" inquired Sarah, saucily.

"Certainly not of the modern school, Madam!"

When General Haines addressed Sarah as Madam he was very indignant indeed, and Sarah rarely replied, but upon this occasion silence was not what the General wanted.

"What did the young savage say to you?" the General questioned.

"He asked if he might help lay the table."

"Help lay the table?" the General roared. "He is a molly-cott, Madam, as well as a clown! To think a boy with a single drop of Haines blood in his veins should want to lay a table!—But he shall not do it!—he shall not ape the ways of a petticoat while under my roof."

"Miss Sarah," cried May, "I came to tell you that cook let me put the potatoes in the kettle—I hope you don't object to that!"

May stood in the dining-room door, a white apron pinned over jacket and knickerbockers, and the sight of the badge of feminine neatness exasperated the General anew.