that a father should see a child receive a premium from the Hon. and Very Rev. the Dean Drinkwater. The young lady was encouraged to make exertion, and the B.A. clergyman who examined, though he did not literally "receive the office" to that effect, made everything very smooth for the young postulant. So with French for Miss Mantower, Lady Mantower's niece; so with elocution, where the Siddons-Joneses declared that Miss Hutton, the member's daughter, showed almost oratorical genius, and that her recitation of Mr. Longfellow's "Excelsior" suggested Miss Faucit. Would not Mr. Hutton, the member, take the honour as a compliment to himself?

Such was the system of Miss Cooke's establishment, not directly open to a charge of partiality, an idea which Miss Cooke would have repelled with indignation; but the ground was certainly smoothed in that direction, and the policy of the home administration favoured selection rather than competition. But that this suspicion of

too slender and delicate a material to bear the working of such machinery as exciting her memory, getting by heart, working sums, and the like-had, however, a department of an ornamental kind reserved for her- "Botany and Ladies' Gardening." This went no higher or no deeper than the names of fashionable flowers, such as were worn at balls, or found upon drawingroom tables-azaleas, camellias, &c.; and the knowledge required was of a very simple and unscientific kind. Calix and pistils were all too rugged for Phœbe's brain, though she could gossip prettily about petals, which she had often met with in books of poetry.

CHAPTER X. AT THE GARDEN-GATE.

WITH all these exciting matters drawing on, and keeping Phœbe and her companions in a flutter, she had scarcely time to think of what had promised to be so exciting an adventure; and she was, indeed, rather piqued at its rather pusillanimous abandonment by the hero. Unsophisti

pelled, it should be stated that nearly every pupil of consideration received a reward of some kind; and it was contrived that even the poor drudges, who were not recommended by wealth or connection, should go away distinguished in some comparatively humble department at all events. What, therefore, were by courtesy called the competitive examinations were now beginning, and the "B.A. Oxon," with Dean Drinkwater and the other professors, had actually arrived, and were already "setting papers" to the young ladies. Very soon the great class-room-formerly a ballroom, when the house had been a family seat-would be cleared for the great day.

The upholsterer's men came to lay down "the daïs," where Dean Drinkwater was to sit surrounded by smiling parents and guardians, and where, too, a quantity of hired cane-bottomed chairs were to be arranged. Above all, the Cooke dove-cote was being fluttered by the news, now authentic, that Adelaide Cross had determined to claim the Dacier medal! In

her case it was felt that no shifts or ingenious manipulation would avail. She was not to be trifled with. It was very annoying. Her abilities were too well known, and nothing in the shape of the convenient arrangement intended by the Misses Cooke could be attempted.

Phœbe-never studious, rather positively idle, and whose small cranium seemed of

that literal and strict obedience to young ladies' commands in such cases was not exactly required, even by the most rigid; and she owned to herself that the young Lochinvar was a dull fellow. However, she was delighted that she was relieved from the difficulty of encountering Adelaide with so awful a secret in her keeping, and she could now look her friend gaily in the face.

Adelaide never alluded to the subject, until one evening, when, in answer to a request of Phœbe's, about some trifling matter, "Won't you tell me?-it's not a secret?" she said abruptly :

"No! I have done with secrets for ever! That last one turned out beauti

fully!"

Phœbe grew nervous. "You mean--"

"I don't think I ever told you. It ended there and then! On the very day that I was confiding it to you, it ended! Could you have believed it?"

Phœbe felt that some mysterious power which was no other than the weakness of her nature-compelled her to be a little hypocritical. How could she now make confession? Alas! she had to put some little astonishment into her face.

"Never been heard of since!" she faltered.

"Why, has he? How would you be likely to know anything of him?"

"Oh, of course not," said Phœbe, rather

"He has never made a sign!" Adelaide repeated. "I suppose he has discovered some one else. But it is a lesson for me never to be so stupid as to tell anything until it is a certainty. But I shall find it all out one day; I never forget a thing, or a person. One day I may have to give the parties concerned just a little chastisement, for what they have done to me-just enough to satisfy justice without verging on vindictiveness. Meanwhile, promise this: never allude to the matter again unless you wish to humiliate me, which I suppose you do not."

Now was a sort of opportunity, Phœbe felt; yet how could she tell her? She was really afraid.

"But" she began.

"What! you won't promise? said Adelaide, almost fiercely. "You wish to keep this advantage over me to match my superior cleverness, as you think?"

“Oh! I do I promise, certainly!" said Phœbe, hurriedly; and did actually promise.

"There now! she won't let me," said Phœbe to herself desperately. "It is not my fault. However, there's an end of it, as she says. Poor fellow! What a pity! He was certainly charming! Yet I am sure there is some mistake."

As she thought this, she went to the play-ground, where was the usual crowd of girls clustered about the postman.

"One for you, Miss Dawson," said the latter, Miss E. Cooke, who on those occasions gave each recipient her full style, as being more official, and more in harmony with the direction on the letter. When the penknife had performed its functions, Phœbe saw the writing and recognised it. It was from the hero of the garden-gate. How mysterious were these coincidences! Bewildered, she flew away to a private room,

to read it.

"DEAR MISS DAWSON, -What will you have thought of me? I had to return at once, being called away suddenly by the illness of my father. The agitation of this matter has prevented my attending to anything else; but I heard by accident that the school is about breaking up, and that you are all going away. So here I am, at the Red Lion once more. Do me one favour, and I promise it shall be the last time that I shall worry you. All our little plans-I mean, of course, your friend Adelaide's and mine-depend upon seeing you

to refuse; and, depending on this, I shall be at the garden-gate to-night-in any case. Come or not, I shall be there."

"How nice of him!"

Phœbe smiled as she read. She was really delighted.

"Oh, wasn't I unjust to him!" she said. "It was really too cruel. And his poor father! How nice of him!"

She was full of enthusiasm and interest, and felt also not a little pride, because her judgment had been a little superior, after all, to Adelaide's well-known sagacity. This enthusiasm prompted her to agree at once, or at least "to see," "or wait and see," which was nearly the same thing. But there was Adelaide; and that young lady's look, dangerous and full of warning, came back on her. This was fresh playing with fire, or rather was about lighting up behind her a conflagration that would now fatally cut off all retreat. It was really very serious, and it made Phœbe grave. Suddenly she began to smile. Was it not only a question of a few days? The breaking up was at hand. It was in Adelaide's interest; she was working for her. Again the magnificent scheme darted, fully formed, into her head; it should all be settled, "clenched," as it were, that night. She would behave with a cold, stiff dignity, as though he had displeased her. She would, categoricallythough the word itself was not known to her, she could apply its meaning wellbring him to the point. He should say yes or no, and the interview should accordingly there end or proceed. what a surprise, when she should rush for Adelaide, and tell her all, bring her to the gate, and be a witness to their solemn betrothal! She was already impatient for the moment to come. The day seemed very long, and dragged by. As was invariably the case, Phœbe's face, and her difficulty of maintaining gravity when any eyes met hers, betrayed that something was being plotted. However, everyone was accustomed to Phœbe's tricks, and suspected nothing serious.

Then

In her room that night, when all had gone to bed, she might have been seen dressing for this meeting-putting on a certain picturesque red cloak and hood; a ribbon, to match, being displayed in her hair. These matters were not thought of on the first occasion; now, of course, it was for Adelaide's interest "to make a good impression;" and, at that moment, she began to work out a most puzzling problem