When Beatrice went away she made straight for her home for it was close on nine and her mother would be anxious. Her heart was heavy and her eyelids were wet with fast falling tears as she made her way accross the desolate moor. Presently she came to the stream and after crossing the bridge she made for the common. On the outskirts of the village stood her home. A little brown cottage with carefully trimmed roses and jasmine creeping up the porch and a neat little garden in front. She opened the gate, walked up the path and opened the door.

What a pleasant scene was there before her! A bright fire was burning in the well kept hearth and an old lady sat beside it knitting stockings for the coming winter. Many pictures adorned the walls. A gentleman was writing at a table in the window. Three little girls all in red frocks and white pinnafores were employed in different ways. The eldest was some ten years old with curly hair and blue eyes and was busy with some corn-flowers and poppies in a glass vase. The other two who looked about eight and six had brown eyes and very fair hair (and) were looking at a book at the middle table. They all jumped up as Beatrice entered.

"Why Beatrice dear how late you are!" said Mrs. Langton "I sent your supper down. "Mary, ring the bell, Beatrice must be hungry."

"No I am not," answered Beatrice smiling wearily and seating herself in the chair her sister had placed for her, "I am only very tired and would like to go to bed."

"Oh you must have something," said Mr. Langton, "Cook made some lovely cheese cakes for supper, and you shall have some wine to drink."

Just then the maid entered, and in spite of herself Beatrice was soon enjoying a hearty meal.

"Oh there is half past nine!" cried Mrs. Langton, "Lily and Tina go to bed at once, Mary can wait up for Beatrice if she likes."

The two little children ran off hand in hand murmering "lucky Mary."