Miss Elwyn did not speak for a moment, but looked at Kate in a manner half-pitying, half-amused. "And so this is a little unfledged heroine,” she said at last; "tell me, my dear, what particular kind of heroism you mean to educate yourself for?"

"Oh, I shall never have a chance of doing anything worthy of being called heroism," said Kate, half-blushing at her own impetuosity. "Ordinary life-such life as ours for instance-seems to me so dull and stupid, as if it was hardly worth living after all."

"You are rather young to think so," said Miss Elwyn, (and very silly, too, she might have added, only she did not wish to frighten Kate.) "I feel sure when you are a few years older you will not think so; but just look how beautifully the sun shines on the plumage of that white pigeon on the roof; how kind of him to perch himself exactly where I want a gleam of light in my picture!"

Miss Elwyn took to her drawing again, and few more words were spoken till Mrs Baker came into the porch with a glass of currant wine, which she insisted on seeing Miss Elwyn drink before she left.

CHAPTER II

THE HAY-FIELD

"Some happy souls there are that wear their nature lightly: these rejoice

The world by giving, and receive from all men more than

what they give.

One handful of their buoyant chaff

Exceeds our hoards of careful grain,

Because their love breaks through their laugh,

While ours is fraught with tender pain ;

The world that knows itself too sad

Is proud to keep some faces glad."

-OWEN MEREDITH

ATE HARDING lost something by not going to the hay-field that afternoon. Never was there a happier, prettier sight than that large party of young and old, tossing, raking, and heaping together the sweetscented hay in that large meadow.

Lucy thoroughly enjoyed herself. Her conscience had pricked her slightly for her

sharp words to her elder sister, and she could not help wishing that her father and sister were there to enjoy the fun with her; but it was real fun, and Lucy was one of those happy beings who always make the most of every delightful thing as it comes, and remember it with pleasure afterwards, so the slight shade passed away from her countenance as her uncle caught sight of her, and called to her to help in making the hay. At it she went with a will, working as hard as her little arms would allow her, her face becoming hotter and redder every moment from the exertion.

As Farmer Baker was anxious to make hay while the sun shone, he had secured the services of a number of extra hands for the occasion; amongst others, an Irishman, who had been a soldier, who was on the tramp to London to see his friends, and took a job on the way to "beguile the time," as he said.

He was so good-natured to Lucy, and amused her so much with his remarks, that she kept by him a great deal as he raked the hay in long low ridges, ready for the next person to pile it into cocks.

Martin Bourke was fond of children, so he

was delighted to find that Lucy liked his company, and exerted himself to please her.

"See there, little missy," he exclaimed; "see that lark rising from the field, depend upon it there is a nest there; let us go and see, for fear the poor creatures should get raked away." "But it is too late for nests, is it not, Martin?" said Lucy.

"Too late for the first brood, missy; but they mostly have a second in the year. The first comes may-be in April, and the second in June. They either scrape a hole in the ground, or choose a furrow for their nests, to save themselves trouble, but come quietly with me, and we will see if there is a nest."

Very quietly Lucy and her new friend crept up to the place whence they had watched the lark rise, and there sure enough, half hidden underneath the hay, was the nest, and in it Lucy saw, to her great delight, four little heads with open beaks waiting to be fed.

"Oh, Martin!" whispered Lucy, "do tell me what they would like to eat; I am sure they are hungry."

"I fancy seeds is their chief diet when they

is young, miss," said Martin; plantain is always sent on purpose with the hay for them."

"On purpose for them! Martin, what do you mean?" said Lucy.

Shure, then, miss, does not the Almighty send corn and potatoes for us, and why should you think He does not think just as much about food for His little creatures as for His big ones?"

This was a new thought to Lucy; and as she collected some plantain seeds from around the nest, and put them into the little beaks open to receive them, she thought how nice it was to feel that One Great Being should take care of so many, and that even a sparrow does not fall to the ground without His knowing and caring for it.

Meanwhile, far above their heads the lark they had seen rise was hovering in the clear blue air, and singing at "heaven's gate ;" and as Mr Elwyn passed through the field and heard the "blithe spirit" warbling, he thought of the simile of Jeremy Taylor, who said that the lark soared and sung as if it had learned music and motion of an angel,