A QUEER VISITOR.

For some days nothing more was heard of the new tenants at Haver Grange, and when Sunday came the children were quite excited at the idea of seeing the foreign gentleman and his little girl in church.

When Stephen said that perhaps they would not come to church this first Sunday, the others scouted the idea with scorn, and the eyes of all the Carews were turned towards the Grange pew as they went in. It was a big, old-fashioned, high-walled pew, and no one had ever sat in it as long as the children could remember; though Mrs. Jinks; the verger's wife, dusted it well and beat up the cushions with great energy every Thursday when she cleaned the church.

The pew was empty this morning; but it was early yet, and the children sat in eager expectation until the last clang of the bell sounded and the vicar entered.

"Such a pity to be late the first morning," thought Norah, as she rose to her feet with the others; but as the minutes passed, and still neither the foreign gentleman nor his little girl appeared, she began to think that perhaps Stephen was right after all.

"Oh, mother, when do you think we shall see her?" said Norah, on their way home from church that morning. "They've been here ever since Tuesday, and we haven't seen anything of them yet. Don't you think they will ever come to church here, mother—the little foreign girl and her father?"

"I don't know, dear," said her mother. "Perhaps they will later on; but father is going to call on Monsieur Gen (I think that is the foreign gentleman's name) in a few days, and perhaps, afterwards, he will be able to tell you something about the little girl."

But when the vicar called at the Grange a few days later, the strange, foreign-looking servant who opened the door told him that his master did not receive visitors; and as Mr. Carew walked down the drive he wondered what reason the foreign gentleman could have for coming to live at Haversham. The last few days of the holidays went by very quickly; and it was just two days before the elder children went back to school that they saw their new little neighbour for the first time.

"If you want to see the little Spanish girl, come quick!" cried Tom, throwing open the schoolroom door; and in a moment the others had flung down their books and work and had followed him downstairs and out into the garden.

"Hurry!" cried Tom, panting as he rushed across the lawn; and they reached the gate just as a stout, elderly woman and a pale-faced little girl, dressed in a quaintly-frilled black frock, paused for one moment before it.

The child gazed solemnly at the group of rosy-faced, happy-looking children on the other side of the gate; then she said something in a strange language to the nurse, and they moved on slowly.

"What a queer little girl!" said Ruth, as soon as the woman and the child were out of hearing. "Hadn't she a comical little skirt?—all tiny frills; and her hair looked so funny in those tight little pig-tails."

"I think she must be French," said Mary. "Little French girls always do their hair like that, in pictures—in two plaits tied with big bows. And the nurse was dressed like a French bonne, with those long streamers in her cap."

"She looks so sad," said Norah. "Poor little girl! Did you see how sad her eyes were when she looked at us, Mary? I don't expect she has anyone to play with her all day long."

"And the nurse looked a grim old thing," said Stephen. "You'd better offer to go and play with her, Norah; you are always wanting a friend of your own age to play with, and here's one all ready and waiting."

"She doesn't look as if she could play," said Philip. "Come on, Tom, I want to let the rabbits out for a run after I've given these mulberry leaves to the silk-worms."

The children had planned to have tea in Weedon Woods that afternoon, but before dinner-time the sky became so cloudy and angry-looking that their mother feared a storm, and said that it would be wiser to put off their picnic until another day.

And at one o'clock the rain began—down it came in torrents, then hail, then rain again; and the children stood at the windows and watched it, feeling glad that they had not started for the picnic.

"We shouldn't have liked the wood today," said Dan, pressing up rather closely to Mary as a loud rumble of thunder sounded very near to them.

"No," said Mary, "I'm glad mother wouldn't let us go; we should have been soaked through by this time."

Just then Ellen, the housemaid, put her head in at the door.

"If you please, Miss Mary," she said, looking very much inclined to laugh, "there's a strange gentleman in the drawing-room asking to see you."

"To see me, Ellen? Are you sure?" asked Mary in surprise. "Didn't he ask to see father or mother?"

"The master and mistress are both out, Miss," said Ellen; "and he asked if you were in"; and then she hurried away in answer to a ring at the back-door bell.

"Oh, Ruth, supposing it's the foreign gentleman!" said Norah.

"Nonsense, Norah," said Ruth; "you never think of anything else."

When Mary opened the drawing-room door, however, she began to think that perhaps Norah was right after all, and the queer-looking old gentleman on the sofa was really the foreign gentleman who had come to live at the Grange.

He wore a pair of very large, blue spectacles, and had a long, white beard and bushy, white eyebrows which almost met over his nose; and he had a tight, little black silk cap on his head, and was dressed in a long, loose black coat, which showed glimpses of a crimson silk waistcoat underneath.

He was quite a short, old gentleman, Mary saw, as he rose to his feet and made her a very low bow; and he was very fat, the little girl thought to herself—almost as broad as he was long.

She held out her hand very politely, however, and said "How do you do?" and the little, old gentleman bowed three times, and then sat down again on the sofa.

"I cannot speak your language very well," he said, in a high, squeaky voice. "But I want to make your acquaintance, and the acquaintance of your brothers and your sisters. Where are they, if you please?"

"I'll go and fetch them," said Mary; and she went out into the hall, and called the other children, who were all sitting in a row at the foot of the staircase.

They jumped up when they saw Mary, and followed her across the hall in great glee when they heard that the foreign gentleman wanted to see them also.

"He is a very queer old gentleman," she whispered: "but you mustn't laugh, any of you, or look at each other—promise!"

"We promise," cried the children; and they pressed eagerly into the room, with Snap, the fox-terrier, bringing up the rear.