Nell of Shorne Mills

"I shall like to read it, Mrs. Trimble. Emma and I were such good

friends, weren't we? And I'll be sure to let you have it back."

The whole of the family crowded out to see Miss Nell of Shorne Mills

drive off, and Drake had to maneuver skillfully to get a coin into

Bobby's chubby, and somewhat grubby, hand unseen by Nell.

They rode on in silence for a time. The scene had impressed Drake. The

affection of the whole of them for Nell had been so evident, and the

sweet simplicity of her nature had displayed itself so ingenuously, that

he felt--well, as he had felt once or twice coming out of church.

Then he remembered the woman's significant glance, and his conscience

smote him. No doubt all Shorne Mills was connecting his name with hers.

Yes; he must go.

She was singing softly as she rode beside him, and they exchanged

scarcely half a dozen sentences on the way home; but yet Nell seemed

happy and content, and as she slipped from her saddle in front of the

garden gate, she breathed a sigh of keen pleasure.

"Oh, I have enjoyed it so much!" she said, as he looked at her

inquiringly. "Is there anything more beautiful and lovable than a

horse?"

As she spoke, she stroked the mare's satin neck, and the animal turned

its great eyes upon her with placid affection and gratitude. Drake

looked from the horse to the girl, but said nothing, and at that moment

Dick came out to take the horses down to the stables.

"Had a good ride, Nell?" he asked. "Wants a lot of coaching, doesn't

she, Mr. Vernon? But I assure you I've done my best with her; girls are

the most stupid creatures in the world; and the last person they'll

learn anything from is their brother."

Nell managed to tilt his cap over his eyes as she ran in, and Dick

looked after her longingly, as he exclaimed portentously: "That's one I owe you, my child."

Nell laughed back defiantly; but when she had got up to her own room,

and was taking off the habit, something of the brightness left her face,

and she sighed.

"I am sorry he is going," she murmured to her reflection in the glass.

"How we shall miss him; all of us, Dick and mamma! And I shall miss him,

too. Yes; I am sorry. It will seem so--so dull and dreary when he has

gone. And he does not seem glad to go. But perhaps he only said that to

please me, and because it was the proper thing to say. Of course,

I--we--could not expect him to stay for the rest of his life in Shorne

Mills."