That evening, my first knitting lesson ended, on returning to Oaklands a surprise awaited me. As I was walking briskly up the avenue towards the house I met Hubert with Faery coming to bring me home.

"Mr. Winthrop has come, and is inquiring very particularly where you are in hiding, and I believe my poor mother is afraid of telling him an untruth, for she hurried me off very unceremoniously after you," Hubert said, as he reined up Faery for a moment's conversation.

"You need have no fears for her; she would go to the stake rather than tell a lie."

"Or betray a friend," Hubert said, with a meaning smile. "Remember Mr. Winthrop is very fastidious about his associates. Your friend Mrs. Blake, in his eyes, has only a bare right to exist; to presume on his friendship, or that of his ward, would be an unpardonable sin."

"I must hasten to your mother's relief," I said, with a little scoffing laugh. I paid very little heed just then to Hubert's remarks—later I found he had not greatly overstated my guardian's exclusiveness. Wishing to gain my room and make some additions to my toilet before meeting Mr. Winthrop, I chose a side entrance, taking a circuitous path through the shrubbery, if possible to reach the house unseen.

The door opened into a conservatory, and I had just slipped in stealthily when I found myself face to face with a gentleman whom I knew on the instant was my guardian. There was such an air of proprietorship about him, as he stood calmly surveying nature's beautiful products in leaf and bud and blossom. He glanced down at me—possibly taking me at first for one of the maids—then looking more keenly he bowed rather distantly. I returned the salutation quite as coldly, and was making good my flight when his voice arrested my steps. "Pardon me," he said, in a finely modulated and very musical voice, "is this not Miss Selwyn?" I turned and bowing said, "My guardian, I think."

"I am glad we were able to recognize each other." I looked into his face. The smile was very winning that greeted me, otherwise I thought the face, though handsome, and unusually noble looking, was cold, and a trifle hard in expression.

"I am glad to welcome you to Oaklands, though late in being able to do so. I hope you have not found it too dull?"

"Oh no, indeed—there is so much to interest one here after city life, I am glad at each new day that comes."

He looked surprised at my remark, and instantly I bethought myself of the character for fastidiousness which Hubert had given him, and resolved to be less impulsive in expressing my feelings.

"You must make society for yourself then in other than the human element. I cannot think any one could rejoice, on waking in the morning, merely to renew intercourse with our Cavendish neighbors."

I looked up eagerly—"Then you don't care for them, either?"

"Ah, I see it is not from your own species you draw satisfaction."

"But you have not answered my question."

There was a gleam of humor swept over the face I was already finding so hard to read.

"I am not well enough versed in Cavendish society to give a just opinion—probably you have already drank more cups of tea with your friends than I have done in ten years. Let me hear your verdict."

"Our Deportment Professor assured us it was exceedingly bad form to discuss one's acquaintance—you will please excuse me."

I was already getting afraid of my guardian. But, from childhood, there was a spice of fearlessness in my composition that manifested itself even when I was most frightened. Again I glanced into his face—he was regarding me with a peculiar intentness, as if I were some new plant brought into the conservatory from an unknown region, and he was trying to classify me. I could see no trace of warm, human interest in his gaze.

"That was a rather mutinous remark to bestow so soon upon your guardian," he said, in the same even voice.

"I am very sorry," I murmured, now thoroughly ashamed of myself.

"We will make a truce not again to discuss our acquaintances; but that interesting subject eliminated from conversation, there would be a dearth left with a goodly number of our species."

"I do not care for the tea parties here, Mr. Winthrop. I am not interested in the things they talk about." I said, with a sudden burst of confidence.

"You have broken our compact already. A woman cannot hold to a bargain, I am informed."

"I had not promised," I said, proudly.

"Then I am to infer you are an exception, and would hold to your promises, no matter how binding."

"I am the daughter of a man; possibly I may have inherited some noble, manly properties." My temper was getting ruffled.

"Yes, Nature plays some curious freaks occasionally," he said in a reflective way, as if we were discussing some scientific subject.

"You will please excuse me. Dinner will be announced shortly, and I must remove my wraps," I said, very politely.

He bowed, and I gladly escaped to my own room, feeling more startled than pleased at my first interview with Mr. Winthrop.

The dinner bell rang, and I hastened down to be in my place at the table before Mr. Winthrop entered. I opened the door of the pretty breakfast parlor where dinner had been served ever since I came to Oaklands, but the room was silent and empty.

I turned, not very gladly to the great dining-room, which I had somehow fancied was only used on rare occasions. Opening the door I saw the table shining with silver and glass, while Mrs. Flaxman stood surveying the arrangements with an anxious face. "Shall we always dine here?" I asked anxiously.

"Always when Mr. Winthrop is at home; our informal dinners in the cosy breakfast-room are a thing of the past."

"But this seems so formal and grand I shall never enjoy your delicious dishes any more, with Hubert adding to their piquancy with his sarcasms, and witticisms."

"Oh, yes, dear, you will; one gets used to everything in this world, even to planning every day for several courses at dinner," she said with a sigh.

"I wonder why it is necessary to go to so much trouble just for something to eat, when it's all over in a half hour or so, and not any more nutritious than food plainly prepared?"

"The Winthrops have always maintained a well-equipped table. Our Mr. Winthrop would look amazed if we set him down to one of our informal dinners."

"I think he would enjoy them if he once tried them," I said, as I slipped into the place Mrs. Flaxman appointed. A few seconds after Mr. Winthrop entered, followed immediately by Hubert who was quite metamorphosed from the gay, scoffing youth into a steady-paced young man. As the dinner progressed I no doubt looked my surprise at the change; but a meaning glance at Mr. Winthrop was Hubert's mute reply.

While Mr. Winthrop's attention was taken up with his dinner, I took the opportunity of studying more closely this man to whom my dead father had committed so completely the interests and belongings of his only child. The scrutiny was, in some respects, not greatly reassuring. I had noticed as we stood near each other in the conservatory that he was a large man, tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. The face, though handsome, had a cold, stern look that I felt could look at me pitilessly if I incurred his displeasure. But there was also an expression of high, intellectual power; an absorbed, self-contained look that seemed to set him apart from others as one who could live independently, if necessary, of the society of his fellow men. I should like to be his friend, was my thought, as finding that Hubert was watching me, I turned my attention to my neglected dinner. Mrs. Flaxman in her gentle fashion kept the conversation from utterly flagging, although we none of us gave her much help. Unasked she gave a pleasant account of the happenings at Oaklands, the ongoings of his human and dumb dependents; how the Alderneys at her suggestion had been transferred to richer pasturage, and the consequent increase in cream; the immense crop of fruit and vegetables, so much more than they could possibly require, and would it be best to sell the overplus?

"Why not give it to the poor?" I said, eagerly.

"Would that pay, do you think?" Mr. Winthrop inquired, giving me at the same time a curiously intent look.

"The poor would thank you."

"How do you know there are any?"

"I have met a good many myself. I dare say there are others I know nothing about."

He turned a keen look at Mrs. Flaxman; I saw her face flush; probably he noticed it as well as I. Then he said, quite gravely:—

"You shall have all the surplus for your needy acquaintances; only you must superintend the distribution. I firmly believe in giving philanthropists their share of the labor."

The color flamed into my face, I could hardly repress the retort:—"Why do you spoil the grace of your gift so ungraciously?" but I left the words unsaid until he left the room, when I relieved my feelings much to Hubert's amusement, who brightened greatly once the door was closed upon him and we were alone.

"I could like that man better than any one I know if he hadn't such a beastly way of conferring favors. Once I get earning money I shall pay him every cent that I have cost him," Hubert said vindictively.

"Including Faery and the choice cigars?" his mother asked, with a sad little smile.

Hubert flushed. "What are they to one of his means?"

"But if you pay him some day it will take you so much longer to pay for them," I said, surprised he had not remembered this.

"I can't part with Faery. Youth is such a beggarly short affair, if one can't have pleasure then, when will they get it?"

"I should think it was high-priced pleasure if I had to take it on those terms."

"You have no idea what prices men are willing to pay for what they desire. Faery even with my means would seem a mere bagatelle to most young fellows of my set."

"I would really like to know what your means are," his mother said, playfully.

"Principally my profession, when I get it; capital health, and a world full of work to be done by some one. I shall stand as good a chance as any one to get my share of the world's rewards for good work accomplished."

"Bravo, Mr. Hubert. I only wish I was a boy so I might go to work too," I cried.

"Hush, the master will hear you. I told you he was fastidious about ladies' deportment. Even the housemaids and cook catch the infection. I certainly pity his poor ward."

"Please do not waste pity on me; if Mr. Winthrop is not nice, I shall go to Boston or New York and teach German in some boarding-school."

A low, long whistle was his only reply.

"Hubert, have you forgotten yourself? Mr. Winthrop will think we have got demoralized."

"Forgive me, mother mine, but Miss Selwyn astounded me. Fancy her working for her bread."

"And liberty," I said, merrily.

"You have got an instalment of that already, permission to dispense the fruit and vegetables. The work has been given as a punishment for making acquaintance with common people."

"That will be a pleasure; see what I am already doing for some of them." I took my forgotten knitting work from my pocket.

"I deeply regret I must so soon leave Oaklands. I really think you will make things livelier here than they have been since Mr. Winthrop was a lad. Just for one moment, mother, try to imagine his disgust when he finds his high-bred ward knitting socks for Dan Blake's little monkeys."

"Dan Blake has no children, Hubert," his mother said, gravely; "and I am not going to trouble myself about what may never happen. It is not necessary for Mr. Winthrop to know how his ward spends her spare time and pocket money."

"But he would as soon think of exchanging civilities with his own dumb animals as with those folk on the Mill Road; and, yet, right under his nose these little arrangements getting manufactured! It is carrying the war into the enemy's camp with a vengeance."

"Is that a specimen of your college conversation, Hubert? If so, you might better remain at Oaklands."

"Surely, mother; you don't expect us to talk like a sewing society or select gathering of maiden ladies," Hubert said with some disgust. "Fancy a lot of young fellows picking and choosing their words as if they were a company of prigs."

"If every word we utter continues to vibrate in the air until the final wreck of matter, as some scientists suppose, surely we can't be too careful of our words, my son."

"If we believe all the nonsense those chaps who are continually meddling with nature's secrets tell us, we should sit with shut lips and folded hands lest we would destroy the equilibrium of the universe, or our own destiny. There is any quantity of bosh let loose on poor, long-suffering humanity, and labeled Science."

"That comes with bad grace from an embryo scholar. If I were you I would throw education 'to the dogs' and take things on trust like Thomas, or the Mill Road people," I said, jestingly.

"I want to know for myself; and so not get cheated by every crank who airs his theories."

"But, Hubert, to come back to the original dispute, if the atmosphere does not hold our every foolish or necessary word, they are permanently recorded in another place by a pen that never writes falsely, or misses a single sentence. How many pages have you got written there, I wonder, that if it were possible you would gladly obliterate with your heart's blood one day."

"Mother, you are worse than the scientists; at least more terrifying. Do you know, Miss Selwyn, when I was a little chap she had me persuaded to be a missionary to Greenland, or the South Pole. I had made up my mind to choose the very worst possible place, so as to have all the greater reward."

"What has changed your mind?"

"Natural development, I expect. Mother is a very sweet and gentle woman, but I am sorry to say she is a crank, if there was ever one."

"Why, Hubert, you amaze me," I said, smiling. "I thought she was as near perfection as any one I ever knew. Excuse me expressing myself so openly," I said, bowing to Mrs. Flaxman; "but won't you tell me what her tendency to insanity is; for I believe cranks are a species of madmen, if I rightly understand what the word implies."

"Over religiosity. Why, really, she used to make me long for martyrdom when I was a child."

"I did not think a person could so soon outgrow early piety," I said, dryly.

Hubert colored and said very little more about his mother's early lessons after that to me; but I could see that his strange indifference respecting those subjects she held as most important of anything within reach of humanity pained her deeply.