Our Home. 197

 

As soon as school was out, I went to help in the
hiving, and found Mrs. Howells still looking on,
but from a very respectful distance, while she
waved her handkerchief incessantly round her head
by way of a warning to any bees that might chance
to rove her way. We were in the midst of our
arrangements, when a gay voice on the other side
of the hedge cried, “So we have tracked you at
last!” and then, “If we come in, will you warrant
us not to be stung ?”

“ Ah, Master George!” cried Mr. Hurst; “he loves
a surprise as well as ever. But come in, come in;
he is welcome.”

When I could leave the hive that I was setting
down, I saw that there was a lady with Master
George ; and although so many years had passed, I
knew that it was my lady, Master George’s sister,
Miss Churchill. They were spending a few days,
they said, with friends in the neighbourhood, and
had ridden over to find us out. Mr. George, as I
ought to call him now, has just left Oxford, having
taken a very good degree, and is to go abroad for a
few months before settling down. He was in the
highest of spirits, and I do not know when I have
laughed so much as on that day; the muscles of
my face ached with laughing. Mrs. Howells was
the only person who was not pleased with this un-