nestly, "I am sure you don't know what you are saying. You are just put out with her for some reason or another-you've got a grudge against her-"

"I beg your pardon-not at all," she interrupted. "Pray don't run away with that idea. She has grossly insulted me, but that I don't take the least notice of. I am only thinking of my children, whom I have striven so hard to bring up well; and I tell you I will not have them exposed to evil influences. Other mothers will feel as I do. I'm sure, if Mrs. Hardcastle knew what she was-"

"My good woman, don't be so absurd," said the archdeacon, who had been grave, but now laughed irrepressibly. "Hetty Hardcastle is old enough to be Mrs. Primrose's mother; and as for Grace and Lottie, why, they must have been pretty big children when she was born. It isn't likely they'll any of them go to school to her, at this time of day. And"-taking courage from the sound of his own voice-"I should have thought that you, Maria, being a mother yourself, would have been glad to be kind to her-so far away from everybody belonging to her as she is."

There never was a female yet who liked to be addressed as "good woman," and Mrs. Brown

resented this designation fiercely.

The fingers with which she buttoned her night-gown trembled, her bosom heaved, her eyes flashed with rage. She had now completed her toilet for the night, and was about to say her prayers.

"I have tried to be kind to her," she vehemently protested, "but she won't let me. She delights in flinging my kindness back in my face. I am not going to put myself out for her to make myself cheap to a person of that sort any longer."

"Well, at least, you need not try to injure her. Now, do promise, Maria, not to go saying things about her to Mrs. Hardcastle and the people of the parish-do, as a favour to me."

"I shall say what I think right, Josiah. I shall do what I believe to be my duty; and I shall tell the truth, as I have always done," said Mrs. Brown.

And then she knelt down at her bedside and became absorbed in her devotions.

CHAPTER IV.

As soon as might be after the installation of the archdeacon at Wooroona, every little township and hamlet in the district-every little centre of population that could boast a building wherein divine service was held, though it were but once a quarter—had a tea-meeting in his honour. There were thus some fifteen tea-meetings celebrated in the course of the first three months, at all of which the venerable Josiah ate cold turkey and trifle, and made speeches thereafter that were most attentively listened to and reported with editorial approbation in the local papers. There was a great sameness in the speeches, as in the dishes; but that was inevitable, and created no disappointment. Sameness-indeed, the close adherence to immemorial tradition-was an indispensable condition of success. The archdeacon knew what was expected of him, and delivered himself accordingly. Mrs. Brown and her daughters also knew what was expected of them; and they, too, "did

their duty," as the former would have expressed it-pouring profuse smiles and compliments upon their hosts and hostesses, and professing an ardent interest in their several families and affairs. So that each tea-meeting "passed off" more harmoniously than the last.

When Mr. and Mrs. Primrose were added to the parish, two-thirds of the series had been celebrated; there were but four or five to be worked through (before a second series was started, of which symptoms were already beginning to appear); and the first of these occurred before the young people were established in their house, and about a week after Mrs. Brown had confided to Mrs. Hardcastle her grief and anxiety in that the new curate's wife was not only an irreligious person, with no respect whatever for sacred things, but a woman whose "moral tone" was such as to render her an undesirable companion for wellbrought-up girls.

By this time the charm of novelty had worn off Mrs. Primrose, and the ladies of the parish were ready to feel grateful for being put upon their guard against her. They had grown accustomed to her pretty face and her pretty clothes; enthusiasm for them and her had sensibly subsided. But while the female members of the congregation

thus assigned to her her "proper place," the men only made more and more of her-exalted her higher and higher over the heads of their own native womankind. They did not cool as time went on; on the contrary, they waxed warmer. The more they saw of her, the prettier they thought her; and the grace of her becoming garments never palled upon them. Nancy's youth and her English upbringing prevented her from understanding the situation as she should have done, but an effort was made to enlighten her on the occasion of the Barwingee tea-meeting.

The scene of the festival this time was a little township twelve miles off, and the festival itself was rendered important and attractive by the fact that some members of what might be called a "county family "-whose homestead was to the little township what an English manor-house might be to the village at its gates-were expected to preside over it, or, at any rate, to shed the lustre of their presence upon the proceedings. This circumstance did not weigh with Nancy, who knew nothing about it, but it induced the leading families of Wooroona to betake themselves thither in great force, the ladies in their Sunday best, the gentlemen escorting them and driving their smartest buggies. It was a sort of picnic amongst