Hardy, "haven't they found the hamper yet, poor young things?"

"Oh, e-es, mum, they began unpackin' before breakfast, but they got tired long before the job was done. Miss Leslie found a tinned tongue, and she said that 'ud be enough-I was never in such a place in my life, Mrs. Turnworth!" exclaimed Mrs. Green, suddenly exchanging the coldly detached tone with which she had begun her narrative for one of unconcealed fury. "The whole house be in such a mess as no Christian body ever see'd, an' they don't seem to wish for to make it no better. There's not a bit o' food as is worth namin' in the house. I couldn't sit down to a tinned tongue for my dinner not if I was starvin', an' there's not so much as a tater to be had. When I ax Miss Leslie if I hadn't better go into the town and get a few things as the tradesman hadn't come for arders, she says, 'It'll be time enough by-and-by.' I can't stand it much longer, Mrs. Turnworth, muin.“

Before even the quick-tongued lady in question had time to reply, the dismayed little assemblage in the kitchen was startled by the tempestuous arrival of the youngest Miss Leslie.

The youngest Miss Leslie looked very young indeed, being small for her seventeen years, and, moreover, being enveloped in a long blue pinafore. She had a little impudent, elfish face, extremely pretty withal, with its small features and pink and white complexion.

Her hair, of which she possessed an immense quantity, was of a redgold, more red than golden it must be owned, and her eyes were of a curious indeterminate hue, now blue, now green-occasionally almost yellow, but that was generally in the early morning on wet days when Bess omitted to darken her auburn lashes.

"Oh, Mrs. Green," she cried, as she dashed in, "I hope I'm not late. I haven't found any apples, but I've lost

my heart to two of the darlingest kittens! Oh, is that you, Cousin Marian? How good of you to come so early."

"I thought I had better come and see how you are getting on," returned that lady, visibly unbending as Bess hugged her with a warmth which rather astonished Rebecca. "Mrs. Hardy has had the same idea," resumed Mrs. Turnworth, "and Mr. Hardy, your landlord, has also come to see if he can make himself useful."

Bess, who did not appear to share her father's caution with regard to shaking hands, extended hers with a frank ease to each in turn, and thanked all three visitors very prettily for coming.

"We are getting on splendidly," she announced. "It's a heavenly, heavenly place, and I never saw such engaging kittens!"

"You are not going to have kittens for lunch, I presume?" said Mrs. Turnworth, regaining her customary sharpness; "and according to Mrs. Green, there is nothing else."

"Why, there's the tinned tongue, Mrs. Green," said Bess, "and I've had such an idea. I couldn't find any apples, but I came upon a whole lot of potatoes, all hidden away under earth and straw. Two great lines of them, yards long. So we'll have a potato pie instead of an apple-tart. That will be much better and more nourishing."

Mrs. Hardy cast a questioning glauce towards Stephen. They were his potatoes, but the young lady had evidently helped herself to them without any thought that she was committing petty larceny. Stephen, however, only smiled in reply.

But Mrs. Turnworth was not so reticent:

"My dear child!" she cried, with a delighted cackle. "You can't help yourself to potatoes promiscuously, even if you do come to the country. Those are Hardy's potatoes, of course,

and-" turning towards the hearth, on which a fire built entirely of brushwood was blazing and crackling-"I should think those are Hardy's fagots, too."

"Are they, Mrs. Green?" inquired Bess, turning towards her innocently.

"I'm sure I don't know, miss. Miss Leslie told me there was plenty of wood in the yard when I asked her what I was to make the fire of."

"They are your fagots, Hardy, aren't they?" persisted Mrs. Turnworth.

As a matter of fact, they were rather choice fagots, which Stephen had set on one side to serve as pea-sticks, but seeing the growing distress on Bess's face he came gallantly to the rescue.

"There is always a lot of wood lying about a place like this," he said. "I'll have some proper logs sent in, though. I get the men to saw them up on wet days."

"I'm sure my cousins don't expect you to find them in fuel as well as in house-room for fifteen pounds a year," Mrs. Turnworth was beginning, when, with a soft flutter of draperies, another flying figure advanced into their midst.

Kitty Leslie, Kitty, bareheaded and clothed in a pinafore like her sister, but taller, gentler, more sedate for all her rapidity of movement. Kitty was two years older and infinitely wiser than Bess-at least, so she imagined.

Her

face was paler, her eyes more blue, and her hair dark. It had in certain lights some ruddy tints, but in general it was of a rich brown, very light and cloudy in texture.

"I saw your umbrella in the hall, Cousin Marian," she cried breathlessly. "I recognized the squirrel on top. You are kind to come and see us so soon." "It's about time somebody looked after you," responded Mrs. Turnworth with an acid smile. "You seem pretty well at sixes and sevens-and besides that, you are plundering Mr. Hardy in VOL. XLI. 2131

LIVING AGE

the most barefaced way. This is Stephen Hardy, your landlord, by the way, and that's his stepmother, Mrs. Hardy."

In response to this gracious introduction Kitty turned from one to the other with a pretty deprecating smile.

"I'm so sorry if we've been plundering you," she said. "I didn't know."

"I'm sure you're heartily welcome, my dear," cried Mrs. Hardy cordially. "There, it bain't worth while to make a fuss about a few oddments same as 'taters and fagots. As Stephen do say, there's a lot of wood about a place like this, an' 'tis better for the men to be cuttin' of it up on a wet day nor to be wastin' their time."

explained

"I didn't understand," Kitty, bending her limpid, appealing gaze upon the speaker. 'When I saw the wood lying there-I thought-I imagined somehow-"

"Kitty and I don't know anything about the country," explained Bess, shaking her head. "We imagined somehow that there always was wood and that sort of thing lying about."

"So it seems," chimed in Mrs. Turnworth. "The potatoes are stored away so that you may help yourselves, and eggs are to be had for the picking up. Perhaps you'll find mutton chops hanging on trees and chickens dangiing from the hedge if you look for them." "I did take some potatoes, you know, Kitty," said Bess, turning with a guilty look to her sister. "I found them just outside our yard, and I thought they were ours. We have got a garden, you know," wheeling towards Mrs. Turnworth again with an explanatory air.

"Oh, yes!" cried Kitty-"such a garden too! It's lovely even now, though there are only Michaelmas daisies and anemones in it. But it lies so prettily. You ought to go and see it, Bess; it slopes up, up to the most delicious old brick wall, with little mosses and ferns

'taters if you took 'em for yourselves, but I'm sure you'm kindly welcome."

Mrs. Green now mutely suggested the evacuation of her premises, by setting to work with many sniffs and somewhat aggressive clearings of the throat to peel the potatoes.

Kitty, turning to her guests with a little hospitable air, suggested an adjournment to the sitting room.

"Sitting room!" echoed Mrs. Turnworth, "the word is hardly appropriate for I don't know where you expect anyone to sit."

When they reached the door Kitty cast a dismayed glance round.

"I am so sorry," she said penitently, "we meant to make it quite tidy before any one came. I just ran out to get some more flowers, and then I so fell in love with the garden I've been rambling about it and forgetting everything else. Isn't it dreadful of me?

here!"

"Yes," said Bess, "I know. But don't you think our decorations lovely, Cousin Marian? At least they will be when they're done."

"No doubt," returned the lady addressed, with a sardonic laugh, "but allow me to suggest that any person with sense would have begun by putting down the carpet and unpacking the furniture."

"You've started at the wrong end, my dear," said Mrs. Hardy, tapping Bess on the shoulder.

Both sisters laughed.

"I'm afraid we're always doing that," said Kitty.

"Ah, but don't you think it saves one from being commonplace?" said Bess, turning her little red head pen

Rebecca, laughing again, caught a hand of each. ""Tis no such thing as robbery, my dears-I was only thinking the frosties mid get at the rest of the

the corner of her eye at Stephen, who stood by in amused silence, looking much too big and too massive for the untidy little room with its feminine fripperies. "I'm sure you disapprove

Stephen merely smiled; he did not disapprove. This was a new experience for him, and he appreciated it. The girls were so pretty; their babble was childish, it was true, but quaint for all that, and delivered in the softest little voices, interrupted now and then by trills of laughter, very sweet and low, unlike any laughter he had ever heard. It certainly was most unlike the laughter with which Mrs. Turnworth greeted Bess's last sally.

"Saves you from being commonplace, does it? Well, it saves you from having any common sense, if that's what you mean. Now listen, girls, we must introduce order into this chaos. I'm going to drive round to the different tradespeople and tell them to come up at once for orders, and you must give up dreaming about Michaelmas daisies and mossy walls and think about bread, meat, and groceries. I'll send two men down to unpack your furniture, and when I come to-morrow I expect to find everything tolerably

The Times.

"We didn't manage at all," said Bess naively.

"Of course, we were at school most of the time," explained Kitty; "we had a housekeeper."

"Well, it's time you began to learn how to keep house for yourselves," said Mrs. Turnworth. "I'll help you."

"And if I can be of any use," put in Rebecca, "I'm sure I'll be only too glad. There, you could just pop across to me, my dears, whenever you find yourselves a bit short of anything or in any kind of difficulty, and I'll do my best to help ye."

I've had my share of pastime, and I've done my share of toil,

And life is short-the longest life a span;

I care not now to tarry for the corn or for the oil,

Or the wine that maketh glad the heart of man.

For good undone and gifts misspent and resolutions vain,

"Tis somewhat late to trouble. This I know

I should live the same life over, if I had to live again.

Three of the Field Marshals who are now most deservedly at the head of the British Army have written their reminiscences, telling of the great

events in which they have played a distinguished part and of the many adventures which they have met and individuals whom they have encountered in their several careers It may

be permitted therefore to an old soldier of a humbler rank to occupy a few pages of the Cornhill in chronicling the small beer of his military life.

"The old order changeth, yielding place to new," and the incidents of a long bygone time, however little important in themselves, may give some amusement to old fellows like the writer, and possibly even to the present generation, who are fortunate in know

ing that the vast possibilities of the future are all their own.

Before going any further, I must here acknowledge a very useful "legup" which was indirectly given to me by the Cornhill on my entrance into the Service. Even in 1860 a lengthy examination had to be passed before a commission could be purchased, and every day for a week I was seated at Burlington House, grappling with Latin, history, mathematics, fortification, arithmetic, French, and other subjects in which qualifying marks could be gained. I never had any doubt of passing the examination, but I wanted to pass extra well, for certain advantages were thereby to be secured. My French was not my strongest point, and I thought it worth while to rub it up with a tutor before presenting myself for the ordeal. Naturally, the first thing the tutor did was to tell me to translate some English into French, and he produced a book of exercises, one of which he wanted me to tackle. Fresh from college, I loathed conventional text-books, and suggested that I would rather translate a page from the "Four Georges," a notable feature in the Cornhill, then in its gorgeous youth. My tutor agreed, and my translation was duly criticized and corrected. examination was three or four days later, and my satisfaction may be conceived when I found that very passage from the Cornhill figuring in my examination paper. Full marks were mine in French at any rate, and, with their aid, my place on the list of successful candidates was much more than respectable. I have ever since looked upon the orange jacket as a porte-bonheur.

The

I shall say nothing of my early days as a cavalry subaltern. I spent several years as instructor of musketry and adjutant, but the daily routine of regimental work, though serious enough, did not present any incidents worth recording here. I came little in con

tact with the senior officers of the Service, and can only remember the annual inspections by the Inspector-General of Cavalry. General Lawrenson was a real type of an English cavalry officer, and to us subalterns an object of profound admiration. He had at his fingers' ends every detail of duty as it was then understood, and was unapproachable in his knowledge of interior economy. But what appealed to us perhaps more than any other of his accomplishments was his superlative horsemanship. As Whyte-Melville said in his "Riding Recollections," "Lawrenson combined the strength and freedom of the hunting-field with the scientific exercise of hands and limbs as taught in the haute école." And the gallant regiment to which I belonged quite appreciated one method of securing that we should always have a satisfactory inspection. When the General had to be mounted, it was always arranged that he should be provided with the best-looking horse that our stables could produce, and particularly one that took a bit of riding. We thus secured that his mind should be so pleasantly occupied that he did not pay too close attention to any of our shortcomings on parade. He gained all our hearts at one inspection in the beginning of the hunting season. Everything of importance had been done, we hoped, to his satisfaction, and nothing was left but for him to inspect the equitation of the officers in riding-school on the following morning. He finished his official work at once, however, making us a little speech: "Gentlemen, I am quite satisfied with all I have seen. I believe that the hounds meet near here to-morrow, and I propose to judge of your riding by seeing you out hunting." Needless to say, every officer, from the Colonel to the junior cornet, was in the field the next day, ready to ride for all he was worth.