"I am the White Rose of Silchester. People say I am pretty, and the law of libel has not yet been invented. If it were, Papa says he should certainly prosecute them and get damages.

"However, Sir Hildebrand Odfysshe declared that he would marry me or die in the attempt. Sir Hildebrand was a poet, and a companion of the wicked Earl of Rochester. He told, I have since learnt, his troubles to the Earl. That dreadful rascal made a suggestion.

"You see (whoever the you may be that reads this), I had no particular objection to Sir Hildebrand, never having seen him. Papa had. Papa is a tremendous Protestant; Sir Hildebrand is an outrageous Catholic. Papa is six feet five; my Baronet is about five fee six. Papa is all hair; Sir Hildebrand couldn' grow a beard, even if Rowland's Macassar wer invented, which as yet it is not.

"I happened to want a lady's maid.

intended advertising for one in The Times, but the first number of that highly respectable periodical had not appeared. I therefore let it be known in the vicinity, and received applications from several candidates. The one I chose, thinking she could do any quantity of work, turned out to be a man in disguise-it was Sir Hildebrand Odfysshe. He had shaved off what he called his beard and moustachea simple suspicion of hair. He looked quite a nice little party in petticoats.

"I found my new lady's maid very useful; but by-and-by she grew troublesome. There were disturbances in the servants' rooms. The housekeeper could not keep order at night, when the servants were in bed. She said tc me she thought it was all the new lady's maid who was such a dreadful romp and teaze. suggested that the new lady's maid migh sleep in my dressing-room, to be out of th way of the others.

"I am now Dame Matilda Odfysshe, and -the White Rose of Silchester."

"I am quite of opinion," said the Squire, "that you have beaten us, Doctor. The White Rose surpasses the Red Rose. Still, on the other hand, it is otherwise. Sir Erwyn, who rode into church to capture a wife, is of a better sort than Sir Hildebrand, who for that purpose wore petticoats.”

Even the ladies agreed.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE PARLOUR BOARDER.

A

"Though every day the fancies vary,
Nought enters that could shock a fairy,
Nought enters that's hirsute and hairy,
Or that can puzzle Mistress Mary,
Whose silver bells grow quite contrary;
Nought enters that could sour a dairy.
Its ruler's wise, its guardians wary ;—
It is—a Ladies' Seminary."

MY CHATTERTON had a new sensa

tion something to talk of in the dormitory, when the candles were out, and a couple of dozen young ladies, having said their prayers, were supposed to be cosily asleep. They weren't. They talked in a suppressed tone, and confided to each other pro

found secrets concerning the sweethearts they had seen in the holidays, or remarked at church. Amy, to tell truth, though most garrulous of all Madame Simonet's pupils, did not go in for sweethearts. Her special faculty was story-telling. She was a little Scheherazade. She would begin a tale at the end of the Midsummer holidays, and it would not be finished at Christmas.

At the same time, she liked gossip for a change. And now there was a theme for gossip which interpolated pleasantly between the chapters of little Amy's endless romance and night. It is requisite here to remark that Madame Simonet was quite a young lady, almost as young as some of her pupils, but quite capable of keeping them in order. Had she not, her husband could. He was a French émigré, quite old enough to be her father. He taught French and drawing to all the best families round Silchester. Byand-by he married the maiden lady, Miss