"Why not say at once that I should mount the pulpit and preach?" asked Aldyth laughing. "But, Gladys, I do wish you would come to Whitechapel with me some night. It would give the girls such pleasure to hear you sing."

But Gladys held up her hands in horror at the idea.

"I could not really, Aldyth. You frighten me by proposing such a thing. I should be afraid of catching smallpox or something dreadful if I went there. Oh, surely one martyr is enough in a family! Ah, yes, you may shake your head. I know I'm a sad girl—I know I care for nothing but pleasure—but that's my way, and you must take me as I am."

"Oh, Gladys, you do not mean that. It would be a poor thing to live only for pleasure," Aldyth said.

"I do mean it, you dear old mentor," said Gladys, stopping her mouth with a kiss; "and I do not find it a poor thing either, so there! But now it is time we got our beauty sleep, so, if you are ready, we will go up stairs."

Aldyth found in her room a letter from Hilda, and, tired though she was, she could not resist reading it ere she went to bed. The envelope felt thick, so she might expect a good budget of news, and with pleasurable anticipations, she tore it open and sat down to read the contents. This was what Hilda had written:—

"MY OWN DARLING ALDYTH,—Am I not very good to reply to your dear letter so soon? But you will not wonder when you hear the exciting story I have to tell. You know, I dare say, that since Sultan went lame, and the veterinary said he would need a long rest, your uncle has bought a new horse for the gig. He is a splendid animal as far as appearance goes, but Miss Lorraine said from the first that he had a vicious look. However, your uncle thought he had got a good bargain, and he must needs go out with John in the gig to try him. Guy wanted to drive him for the first time, but your uncle would not hear of it. He was still very displeased with poor Guy; nothing he did gave satisfaction. However, Guy occupied the back seat of the gig, and came into Woodham with them; but seeing that the horse was going all right, he got down at the post-office, and said he would walk home. To tell you the truth, Aldyth dear, he meant to linger about the town with the hope of seeing poor little me.
"Well, Mr. Lorraine called on his dear friend, Miss Rudkin, and John walked the horse up and down whilst he was there. Whether the delay irritated him, or whether he took fright at a tramp who was coming along the road with a sack on his back, it is impossible to say, but Mr. Lorraine had hardly taken his seat ere the horse began to plunge wildly, and when John whipped him, he bolted. Old John was powerless to hold him in, and he went down town like the wind. Kitty was at the window and saw the horse run away, and she says she shall never forget it. Fortunately the road was clear.
"The horse tore down the High Street till close upon the corner where the old church juts out, and what would have happened then no one dare say, if Guy—dear, brave, noble Guy!—had not come to the rescue. He was standing talking to some one outside the saddler's, and saw the horse coming. In a moment he was in the road, gave one bound, and caught the reins, and, hanging on with desperate strength, forced the animal to stop. How he did it, I cannot imagine, it makes me tremble even now to think of it; but you know how strong he is, and now he has proved that he is as bold as he is strong.
"Oh, Aldyth, you can never laugh at Guy again, or run him down. You ought to be very proud of your brave cousin. But I forget that you will be anxious to know how your uncle was after such a fright. He really bore it wonderfully well. He was a little faint at first, and they took him into Hall's and gave him some brandy. In half an hour he seemed all right, and oh, Aldyth! He thanked Guy before everybody, and said he had saved his life, and called him a brave fellow. And, only think, the next day he insisted on going for a drive again with the same horse, only Guy drove, so no harm came of it. But would any one except Mr. Lorraine have done such a thing?
"I met them as they were driving, and your uncle nodded to me quite pleasantly, and Guy looked so pleased. Oh, I hope it is not very foolish of me, but I cannot help thinking that perhaps after all, things will come right for us. Surely, Mr. Lorraine must be kind to Guy, now he has saved his life!
"Miss Lorraine has just been in on her way home from Wyndham, and she says she believes that her uncle is more affected by the shock than he will own. She thought him looking very shaky.
"Oh, Aldyth, how I wish you were here! There is so much I should like to tell you, and it is impossible to put everything in a letter. Mr. Glynne's sister has come to stay with him for a few weeks. She seems a very nice girl, and we have invited her to spend Tuesday with us. But I must not write more now. With fondest love, dearest Aldyth,—
"Your devoted friend,
"HILDA."

Here was news indeed! All desire of sleep vanished from Aldyth as she read it. She was moved both to thankfulness and to self-reproach as she thought of her uncle's danger and Guy's brave conduct.

"Perhaps I have been too hard on him," she said to herself. "Perhaps there is more in him than I suppose. Anyhow it was a brave deed, and I am glad, oh, so glad and thankful, that he had strength and courage to do it."

One effect of Hilda's letter was to awake in Aldyth a longing to return to Woodham. She had now been absent from the little town for several months, and it was with somewhat of home-sickness that she recalled all the varied interests of her life there. It was spring weather now, and amid the London streets and squares, she yearned for the country lanes and the woods and fields bright with primroses and cowslips.