Year: 1873

sorts of difficulties" sighed the Vicar;
but it can't be helped, he added, bright
ening, "and perhaps other people won't
find it out if we don't tell them"


How is she dressed?" l asked, eagerly.


"All in black, looking small and
straight somehow"


is she pretty?"


''Then they won't find her out" / said,
emphatically. IF woman isn't pretty
and well dressed, and does not call herself
a lady, she will only be found out by her
own class"


How can you know?" said the Vicar
looking at me.


Never mind howl know; and if we
and Mrs. Henry are wise enough to keep
our own council and our own places, it
will be all right"


But won't she expect to be treated as
a lady-asked to dinner and all that?n
asked Mrs. Ambrose, doubtfully.


II think not" said the Vicar; "and if
she does we can't help it. If she is a
lady, she will recognize her position and
accept it'


Hadn't you better write to Mr.. Dob
SOM"


Cl HipS l. Hdu anu ut Mtut away
and did it.


Before the answer came l had seen Mrs.
Henry at her work in the school, and at
once gave in to the Wears decision.


She was lady, without any manner Of
doubt. The tone of voice, the graceful
bow, the quiet hands, the self-possessed
dignity of her manner, made her seem to
my poor old eyes a very fine lady indeed.
But she was dressed in a common black
stuff dress, with little folds of black Grape
round the throat and wrists, and quaint
sort Of cap that covered nearly all her
hair. There was not speck of brightness
or a single detail of prettiness in her whole
appearance.


/ could not tell how old she was. She
might have been thirty; she might have
been ive-and forty. | used to watch her
for halfhours at time to try and settle
the question to my own satisfaction, but
| was always puzzled. The unbecoming
dress mystified me, and | had to give it
up; but | sometimes used to picture her
dressed in other garments, and fancy that
she would be a very different looking
woman If her costume were different. As
it was she locked so small and insignifi-
cant that some of the children were led
by their ignorance to be naughty and
troublesome; in fact, to try their power
with this quiet little woman, who was
about half the size Of portly Mrs Todkins,
and never raised her voice above its usual
quiet tone.


But she showed her authority at the first
sign of disobedience. There was no
threatening, no talking about how she
would punish them if they were naughty,
but the punishment came swiftly on the
commission Of the offence and in less than
a month she had established such dsci-
pline as had never been dreamed of under
the old rule.


In the meantime Mr.. Dobson wrote to
the effect that he had sent the best mis-
tress in Hatley to his old friend; that he
would answer for her passing Eighty per
cent. of the children under her care; and
that as to her social position it was mat
ter entirely beyond the question; but many
ladies were qualifying for certificates, pre-
terring the life of schoolmistress
to that ola governess, in which they show
ed their sense. He did not know whether
Mrs. Henry was lady or not, but he
knew she was first-rate mistress, and St.
Bridget's ought to think itself very lucky
to have her.


We all felt rebuked after that, and as
time went on we began to value our mis-
tress as much as Mr.. Dobson could wish


At first Mrs. Ambrose made little doubt
full overtures to her, but Mrs. Henry show
ed every one whom it might concern that
she knew her position and intended to
keep it. Once and again, at long inter
walls, she would accept an invitation to tea
at the vicarage, or at my house; but she
never told us anything about herself. Who
was she, where she came from, we had no
idea. When the holidays arrived she
went away and left no address, but was
back again at St Bridget's the day before
the school opened,


How we did miss her during the holi-
days! not on week days, but in the church
on Sundays; for the organ behaved as diff
ferntly under her hands as the children
did, and her splendid contralto voice had
brought strangers to our church from far
and wide. The choir was content to be
taught by such mistress, but they wan
dered out of the way dreadfully when she
was absent, and got lost in the I'e Deum so
hOpelessly that it only reached a conclu-
sion by some one of more sense than the
rest beginning to sing the concluding
verse


We used to wonder, Mrs. Ambrose and
/, what Mrs Henry did in the evenings.
Her dress was so simple that needework
for herself could not occupy her time; ;
yet she was seldom out of doors, even in
the sweet summer evenings, until it was
almost dark, and then she used to walk up
and down the little garden that divided
her house from the school for an hour at a
time, more for the sake of exercise than
enjoyment, it would seem by the rapid
steady pace at which she moved. One
night, when | was coming home late,
stopped and spoke to her.


You walk late, Mrs. Henry; but per-
haps it is the pleasantest time during the
hot weather"


1t is the cheapest, Mrs. Acton. It
saves an hour of daylight to come out now
instead of earlier"


1t struck me all in heap, as the people
say, to hear this woman, who was earning
seventy pounds per annum and appeared
to have no one but herself to care for,
talk of saving daylight" as if the cost of
candle were something to be avoided. |
felt very sorry for her. / don't know why
it came over me all at once, as it did, that
her life was a very hard one. But | put
my wrinkled old hand on the little firm
white fingers which rested on the gate,
and said" My dear, you must not work
too hard"


l was frightened when l had done it.
She was so selfpossessed and reserved, :
that | thought she would be angry; but.