Master and Maid. L. Allen Harker

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      The matron's kind, worn face beamed.

      "Mr. Clonmell's sister, isn't it, sir?" she said, turning to Tony. "She has arrived before you expected her, so I've put her in Miss Foster's room for to-night. I will see that her own is all in order to-morrow. I'll look after her and take care that she is comfortable."

      "Good-night, Lallie," said Tony, looking much relieved. "Don't trouble to get up to breakfast; Ford will bring you some upstairs. Sleep well!"

      He turned to depart, but the girl came flying after him to the head of the stairs.

      "Aren't you going to kiss me good-night, Tony?" she cried reproachfully, "an' me so tired and homesick and all."

      She turned up her face towards his--the pathetic, tired child-face.

      Tony Bevan's somewhat weather-beaten countenance turned a dusky crimson. He dropped a hasty kiss on the very top of her head and fled down the staircase without looking back.

      Matron, standing in the doorway, watched the little scene with considerable interest.

      "Perhaps he'd rather I didn't kiss him now I'm here," Lallie said meditatively. "What do you think, Matron?"

      The girl evidently asked her opinion in all good faith, and the matron, who had a kind heart for everything young and a sincere liking for the head of the house, said diplomatically:

      "Of course I know Mr. Bevan's just like a dear uncle to you and your brother; but if I was you, I don't think I'd expect him to kiss you while you're here. It is a bit different being in a College House, you know, to what it is at home, now isn't it?"

      "It is, indeed," Lallie agreed fervently. "Tony seems so funny, so stiff and stand-off; not a bit like he is when he comes over to us. We're all so fond of him, servants and everybody."

      "Of course you are, and so you will be here," the matron said briskly. "Mr. Bevan is an exceedingly nice gentleman and a great favourite. But, you know, a gentleman who is a schoolmaster must be a bit strict in term time or he could never keep any order at all."

      "You think that's it?" said Lallie, much comforted. "Of course I can understand that. Paddy said he was quite different with us over in Kerry to what he is here. I don't mind a bit if that's all. I was afraid perhaps he'd taken a dislike to me."

      "I don't think anybody could do that," the matron remarked consolingly. "You see, Mr. Bevan only got your papa's letter, saying you were coming, this morning, and I know he didn't expect you for some days. Somehow, your papa had not made it clear you were coming at once; and Mr. Bevan was upset to think that nothing was ready for you, and Miss Foster being away----"

      "I'd rather have you than twenty Miss Fosters," cried Lallie, throwing her arms around Matron's neck. "You're a dear kind woman, and I love you."

      CHAPTER II

      Mr. Nicholl, Chairman of the Playground Committee--commonly known as "young Nick" to distinguish him from his brother, "old Nick," a master of irascible disposition--sat awaiting Tony Bevan's collaboration in that gentleman's comfortable study. While he waited, young Nick indulged in all manner of romantic surmises as to his colleague's probable engagement during the recent vacation. Young Nick was really young, and was not in the least short-sighted. The brilliantly lighted dining-room and its two occupants were almost forced upon his notice as he walked up the drive to B. House, and it was with the greatest interest, tempered by considerable good-natured amusement, that he beheld Tony Bevan, shyest and, apparently, most confirmed of bachelors, in an attitude that implied familiar, and even tender relations, with so young and attractive a girl.

      "Sly dog, old Tony," he reflected. "Kept it uncommonly dark till he springs the girl upon us. She must be years younger than he is--wonder what she saw in old Tony? I'd like to know how the affair strikes Miss Foster--suppose she cleared out to give 'em a few minutes together. Shouldn't have chosen that room to spoon in if I'd been them--too public by far. Wonder how long he'll keep me waiting here? Shouldn't have thought old Tony would have had the courage to face Miss Foster. I'd have done it by letter if I'd been in his shoes; perhaps he did. Anyway, she won't half like it. Thought she was a fixture here for evermore, and pitied old Tony from the bottom of my heart. Well! Well! If ever a man was safe from matrimony, old Tony seemed that chap--but no one's safe. Only she really does look rather too much of a kiddie for him. Good old Tony! he's a thorough sportsman and deserves the best of luck, but it's quaint of him to spring her upon us without saying a word first. I wonder why now----"

      Here young Nick's reflections were interrupted by the entrance of their subject, a little breathless; a little rumpled about the hair, for Lallie at parting had thrown her arms about his neck with more warmth than discretion; a little stirred out of his usual comfortable serenity.

      Young Nick held out his hand, smiling broadly.

      "It's no use pretending I didn't see, old chap, for I did. Heartiest grats.----"

      Tony Bevan stepped back a pace, nor did he make any attempt to clasp the proffered hand. "Look here, Nicholl. For heaven's sake don't let there be any mistake of that sort; that child is Paddy Clonmell's sister----"

      Tony paused; and young Nick, thoroughly enjoying his evident discomfort, remarked encouragingly.

      "Well, there's no objection in that, is there?"

      "Confound it!" Tony Bevan exclaimed angrily. "You've got hold of a totally wrong idea; that child has been sent to me by her father--by her father, mind you--to look after while he goes big game shooting in India this winter. I've known her since she was a month old, and I've known him since I was his fag here, five-and-twenty years ago. She's always looked on me as a sort of uncle, and she's demonstrative, poor little girl, like all the Irish----"

      "I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said young Nick, with blue eyes that would twinkle merrily in spite of all his efforts to the contrary; "but you must confess it was a natural misconception. You see, you'd kept it so uncommonly dark about her coming."

      "Kept it dark!" Tony echoed indignantly. "Kept it dark! Why, I only knew myself that Clonmell wanted me to have her this morning; and in his letter he said, 'in a week or so'; then the child appears to-night, wholly unexpectedly, and it's deuced awkward, for Miss Foster's gone away for the week-end to a niece's wedding."

      "Can't you get one of the married masters to have her till Miss Foster comes back?"

      "No, I can't do that; she'd be awfully hurt. They're all the soul of hospitality themselves, and I could never make her understand my reasons. I must worry through somehow, only don't you go off with any ridiculously wrong impression."

      "Of course not, of course not," young Nick remarked solemnly, still gazing at Tony with eyes that seemed unable quite to see him in this new rôle of guardian to a young lady.

      They stared at each other in silence for a minute, and what young Nick saw was a broad-shouldered, tall man, rather short-necked, very square-jawed, brown and weather-beaten as to complexion; a well-shaved man with a trustworthy but by no means beautiful mouth, except when he smiled, when two rows of strong, absolutely perfect teeth, redeemed its plainness. Of Tony Bevan's nose, the less said the better. It was inconspicuous and far from classical in shape, but his eyes were really fine: humorous, clear, very brown eyes that were in truth the mirrors of a kind and candid soul. His head was good, with plenty of breadth and height above the ear; his hair thick and usually very smooth and sleek.

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