CHAPTER II.

KIDDLE-A-WINK INTRODUCES HIMSELF.

SOMEWHAT later in the evening Dym crept down to the school-room very red-eyed and subdued, and very much ashamed of herself for keeping the school-room tea waiting. Edith would be tired and very cross with her long fast, she thought with a good deal of compunction. Edith was not there, however.

The school-room was a long narrow slip of a room—evidently an after-thought of the architect-but pleasant, and well lighted by two windows; the door stood open, and the evening sun streamed on the small round tea-table, which Caroline had set out with more than her usual liberality and love of good things; but before Dym had more than time to wonder at the unusual display of preserves and cakes, a very small gray dog-the very smallest and wiriest of Skye terriers that she had ever seen-ran at her with a short howl of surprise, and then suddenly sat up on his hind legs and begged. This was startling, to say the least of it, but it was far more so to find that the dog was not the sole occupant of the room. A very tall man, in a dark-tweed shooting-coat, was leaning against the mantelpiece, in that embarrassing position which only brought a pair of very broad shoulders and the back of a curly head into prominent notice; for the owner of these shoulders was looking intently at the green and gold shavings with which the grate was encumbered.

Miss Elliott might be forgiven for the surprise that kept her immovable in the doorway, while the little Skye terrier sat up and waved its paws at her in dumb friendliness; for no form of mankind, no brothers or cousins, were ever known to cross the threshold of the school-room.

The young cornet of dragoons, Charles Tressilian, only honored his sister and her governess with a good-humored nod when he met them on the stairs or about the park. He vouchsafed a curious glance once, when he first came upon

Dym in her little close bonnet. I suppose the olive complexion and dark eyes of the little governess did not meet with his approval, for he never volunteered a second look. Not that Dym cared about it, though; there were plenty of these gay young officers about the house, in attendance on Miss Tressilian. Dym could hear the clanking of their spurs sometimes on the polished staircase when they came in from a dress parade, when she was hearing Edith her German verbs. "Miss Elliott," Edith would say archly, "when I grow up I shall marry Colonel Delaire; he is much the nicest of them; he has great yellow moustaches, and a beard that hurts when he kisses me. I don't think he ought to kiss Beatrix so often, Miss Elliott, do you? She is quite grown up, you know, and the others don't do it."

"Hush! go on with your verb, Edith," says the governess, with a sigh; she thinks it must be rather nice to be Beatrix, and to have a colonel of her own. She catches glimpses of her sometimes, as she passes the drawing-room door, sitting at the piano in her white evening-dress, quite surrounded by these young fellows. She knew the colonel Edith had spoken about; he was a pleasant, gentlemanly man, and had spoken very kindly to them one day when a great dog had frightened them in Kensington Gardens.

"Who is that little dark-eyed girl whom I meet so often in the park with Edith?" asked the colonel, when he saw her passing by the open door.

แ

Oh, Miss Elliott, her governess," answered Beatrix indifferently; "it is a pity mamma has engaged such a dowdy little thing. You have turned over too quickly, Frank; I have two bars to play."

Old Dr. Schreiber, the German master, is the only masculine figure that ever crosses the school-room threshold; he wears a curious old wig and plaid waistcoat, and indulges plentifully in snuff. Dym hates him and his old-fashioned politeness and broken-English compliments.

Ah, you are a child of the South, Meess Elliott," he would say. "You have the Italian blood in your veins" (Dym's grandmother was an Italian); "you are not cold and proud, like these islanders-they are ver great, but ach Himmel

and the rest of the old man's rhapsody would be lost in a pinch of snuff.

Dym knew in an instant that the broad shoulders and the tweed shooting-coat did not belong either to Charlie Tressilian or to any of his brother officers-the brown curly hair looked sun-dried, and wholly unlike the trim closely-cut heads she remembered. Her little thrill of astonishment was followed by a long pause of indecision-how was she to address herself to this stranger? The back of a man's head does not conduce to conversation; it was difficult to go forward, and awkward to retreat. She did neither, but just coughed slightly.

Ah, are you there, my little friend?" came in brisk amiable tones from the fireplace. "Have you told them I am dying

Dym grew hot, and then felt inclined to laugh. At any risks, she must make him turn round.

"They have gone out to dinner; are you expecting Miss Tressilian, sir?"

At the first sound of the demure voice the arms dropped from the mantelpiece, and a brown-bearded face looked round in evident astonishment.

"Who in the name of wonder-I beg your pardon, but I thought my little cousin was here; I am afraid I was very rude just now; I did not hear you enter. Kiddle-a-wink, you rogue, just leave the lady alone."

Certainly the oddest person. A cousin-Dym had never heard of him. Stop; had not Edith talked often of a Cousin Guy? Perhaps this was he. What a tall man he was! big, too, and dressed in an odd foreign sort of fashion, with a blue handkerchief knotted loosely round his throat, the ends flying, and the very brownest face she had ever seen in her life, with dark quizzical eyes.

"I knew they were all out," he continued good-humoredly, as though to relieve her evident embarrassment; "the butler told me they had a dinner engagement. I know they are awfully gay people. Never mind me; I am used to disappointments, and they did not expect me. I only told Charlie I might look in one of these days."

But you have not dined, Mr.

stammered Dym, more than ever convinced that this must be the "Cousin Guy," and longing with all her heart that Edith would come back.

"Guy Chichester, at your service," returned that gentle

man, promptly answering the involuntary stammer. "I suppose I ought to have introduced myself before, as Edith is not here to do it for me. 1 believe I have the pleasure of speaking to

"I am only Miss Elliott, the governess," interrupted Dym, shyly, feeling painfully conscious of her red eyes and pale cheeks, and wishing she had changed her shabby gown, a faded lilac gingham, for her usual afternoon black silk. She was not sure the quizzical eyes had not already noticed these and sundry other defects. "Shall I go and tell Orton to serve you up some dinner at once?"

"On no account; I have already declined Orton's kind attentions. Edith has promised me a cup of tea. I suppose she will be back directly she has attended to the kitten's comfort. I found some young demons in the shape of boys stoning a little kitten, so I just dropped it in my pocket, much to Kiddle-a-wink's disgust, and brought it on to Edith to cosset and cuddle to her heart's content. I hope," with another kind inquisitive glance," that Edith's governess will not resent my uninvited presence in her own sacred precincts."

"I am afraid Mrs. Tressilian will not like it," answered Dym, honestly she always spoke the truth, whatever it cost her; but her eyes said, "Edith and I will like it very much indeed." "Oh, I will take the consequences of that," coolly sitting down, and drawing the dog's black muzzle into his hand. "Cousin Guy always does as he likes here." Then, with a droll look in his eyes, "Doesn't Edith change her governesses very often? When I last had tea here, a funny little lady of fiftyfive-Miss Dale I think they called her-poured it out for me, and the time before that I found a very stout widow lady in charge."

It was impossible not to laugh at Mr. Chichester's mischievous tone, and Dym did so very heartily, and then tried to look demure.

"You have not been a governess long," was the next statement volunteered by this singular person.

"How can you tell that?" asked Dym, somewhat timidly.

Why, you are not very old, to begin with; and, next, you have not learnt to look prim and demure without a perceptible effort. Wait till you are Miss Dale's age. Ah, here comes Edith, and with the kitten hugged up in her apron, I declare.

Why, my fair Saxon, do you mean to lead me a cat-and-dog life after all? Look at Kiddle-a-wink's ears.'

"Oh, Cousin Guy," exclaimed the child, running up to him with her eyes full of tears, one of those dreadful stones had hurt it after all; one of its paws was bleeding; and when we put the poor thing down, it just held it up, mewing dreadfully. Caroline says it is broken, and she has been trying to bind it all this time, only Kitty does cry so!"

"Who is Caroline? I don't think she is much of a surgeon. Do you call that a bandage?" asked Cousin Guy, in the good-humored, half-cynical tone that seemed natural to him. "Hand over the victim to me." And in spite of the poor animal's plaintive cries, so trying to the nerves of Edith and her young governess, the brown shapely hands busied themselves with the wounded limb as tenderly and adroitly as would a woman's.

There, I call that more respectable. Don't you think I ought to be appointed dresser to Guy's Hospital, Miss Elliott ? Now put your patient to bed, Miss Nurse. And poor pussy having been deposited in a large work-basket well lined with an old shawl, Mr. Chichester quietly suggested that he had not yet enjoyed his promised cup of tea; whereupon Dym moved to the table, feeling sorely puzzled as to what Miss Tressilian would think of these proceedings.

The whole affair, however, seemed no novelty to Cousin Guy; and as for Edith, she was in the seventh heaven of delight. Dym had now discovered for herself that Mr. Chichester was not an unfrequent visitor to the school-room, and this set her more at her ease. She was very quiet at first, and left the conversation chiefly to Edith; but Mr. Chichester appealed so frequently to her, and his drollery and bonhomie were so infectious, that Dym's mirth-loving nature could hardly hold out long; and she soon forgot her swollen eyes and shabby dress in listening to the pleasant sallies of their new companion. Dym was in a perilous state between old pain and new pleasure; but she wisely put away her heart-ache, and determined to enjoy the present. What a wonderful break that was in the monotony of the school-room life! That any one should address her in tones of equality-nay, more, of interest-was novelty enough to our little Cinderella. The narrow room seemed quite blocked up by the broad

evening

long