After that the subject dropped. Miss Fairbairn had accomplished her object, and discussed the prospect of the hay crops so pleasantly during the remainder of the meal, that Cornelius congratulated himself that the suspicions aroused in her mind had not taken deeper root.

Henceforward he would be doubly cautious, and, what was more, he determined to tell Margie of Miss Fairbairn's intimations, and show her the importance of keeping their secret for a time.

"After all," he said to himself, "the old bird may drop off her perch any day, and then I shall be my own master, and can afford to laugh at what the rest of the world may say."

CHAPTER XVII.

"Ah, Love, but a day,

And the world has changed!

The sun's away,

And the bird estranged;
The wind has dropped,

And the sky's deranged:
Summer has stopped."

ROBERT BROWNING.

HERE was an unwonted stir in the yard of the Manor-house, for this afternoon. the waggon on which the carpenter had

been employed during so many months past had at length been brought home.

It was market day, and Cornelius was not yet back from Wyndover; but, with his exception, every man and boy on the farm was present to see it drawn in.

"She be a fine one, she!" was Dicky's exclamation as he stood at the door of the stable with a fork in his hand, and gazed open-mouthed at the

big yellow letters in which the name "Lydia Fairbairn" was emblazoned.

Every one had a word of approval or admiration to bestow, all but the old shepherd, who stood looking on without a word.

"It's little good it will be to her, or to me either!" was the only sentiment he was heard to utter.

All the same, Miss Fairbairn did take a keen interest in the arrival of the waggon from the window overlooking the yard, where she sat surveying it with a critical eye.

"Here, Molly," she said, seized with a sudden thought, "go down and fetch Chaplin. I've a word to say to him."

For Luke was in the yard, helping to push the waggon under the cart-shed, half pleased and half amused at the expressions of wonder and admiration which his handiwork called forth.

He received his summons to Miss Fairbairn's presence with satisfaction, for, like most of those who worked for her, he had a certain regard for the old lady. But when he entered the room he was struck by her altered appearance, and, in the same way as the old shepherd, began to conclude she was not much longer for this world.

Miss Fairbairn greeted him with more cordiality than she usually showed, and expressed her approval of the waggon.

"It's been a long time on the road, ma'am, but I think it will stand well," said Luke; " and I hope I see you better."

She thanked him for his inquiries in her dignified manner, and after a few more remarks went straight to the business which was uppermost in her mind.

"I have known you all my life, Chaplin, and if I speak a word of friendly warning to you now you won't take it amiss. That young cousin of mine, Cornelius Maynard, has been talking to your girl Margery, and putting the silly idea into her head that he means to marry her."

Luke stared blankly at this piece of information, and was too much amazed to say a word. The world certainly was upside down this week, and he seemed fated to a series of surprises, each of which in turn touched him more closely than the last.

Accordingly Miss Fairbairn continued, "Now, what I have to say to you is this: Cornelius Maynard has not the smallest notion of doing honourably by her; he has told me with his own lips that the idea of marrying her has never once crossed his mind, and I hope you will tell her from me the less she trusts in him the better."

"I know nothing at all about it," said Luke, becoming more and more perplexed in mind. "It's true the young man has been at the house a time or two, but that was some time back."

"That's exactly what I thought, and the very reason why I sent for you," said Miss Fairbairn. "Shake hands, man, for I know you've no time to squander over foolish boys and girls; but the sooner your daughter's eyes are open the better. Good day to you."

Luke went home in greater dismay than ever about his family affairs. It was bad enough to lose both his daughter and his apprentice at the. same time, and now this new difficulty about Margie had come upon him. Why should not girls be content to live at home? Then all this trouble would have been spared, and things would have gone on as smoothly as they always had before. His own inclination was to wash his hands of the whole matter and shut himself up in his shop with his tools and wood, which were at least more manageable than human beings, with all their changing moods and wayward hearts. But once before in his life Luke had taken this line, and the results had shown him that we cannot cast off the responsibilities which family ties bring with them, without running terrible risks; so he determined to follow Miss Fairbairn's advice and give Margie a caution

at once.

He found her alone in the garden, picking pansies and forget-me-nots. Essie had gone down to see Mrs. Plaskitt, who was confined to the house with