and very probably her equal mentally in some ways. It was no use, however, arguing with Mrs. Valpy over such a nice point, as she was firmly intrenched behind her insular egotism, and would not have understood the drift of the argument, with the exception that she was a white, and therefore greatly superior to a black. Toby saw the indignant flash in her eyes, and hastened to divert the chance of trouble by saying the first thing that came into his mind.

"Is your mother in England, Miss Pethram?"

"My mother is dead."

"Oh! I beg--I beg your pardon," said Toby, flustering a little at his awkwardness: "I mean your father."

"My father," replied Kaituna, cheerfully. "Oh, he is out in New Zealand again. You know, we lived out there until a year ago. Then my father, by the death of his elder brother, became Sir Rupert Pethram, so he brought me home. We always call England home in the Colonies. He had to go out again about business; so he left me in Mrs. Valpy's charge."

"Delighted to have you, my dear," murmured the old lady, blinking her eyes in the sunshine like an owl. "You see, Mr. Clendon, we are near neighbours of Sir Rupert's down in Berkshire."

"Oh!" said Clendon, raising himself on his elbow with a look of curiosity in his eyes, "that is my county. May I ask what particular part you inhabit?"

"Near Henley."

"Why, I lived near there also."

"What," cried Tommy, with great surprise, "can it be that you are a relative of Mr. Clendon, the Vicar of Deswarth?"

"Only his son."

"The young man who would not become a curate?"

"It didn't suit me," said Toby, apologetically; "I'm far too gay for a curate. It's a mistake putting a square peg into a round hole, you know; and I make a much better pressman than a preacher."

"It is a curious thing we never met you, Mr. Clendon," observed Mrs. Valpy, heavily; "but we have only been at 'The Terraces' for two years."

"Oh, and I've been away from the parental roof for five or six years. I do not wonder at never meeting you, 

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