“Oh, how good you are!  Of course I will work.  When am I to begin?”

“I don’t know—­to-morrow, if you like; but I must speak to your father first.”

Her face fell a little at the mention of her father’s name, but presently she said, quietly—­

“My father, he will not care if I learn or not.  I hardly ever see my father; he does not like me.  I see nobody but Pigott and you and old Jakes, and Sam sometimes.  You need not ask my father; he will never miss me whilst I am learning.  Ask Pigott.”

At that moment Pigott herself hove into view, in a great flurry.

“Oh, here you are, Miss Angela!  Where have you been to, you naughty girl?  At some of your star-gazing tricks again, I’ll be bound, frightening the life out of a body.  It’s just too bad of you, Miss Angela.”

The little girl looked at her with a peculiarly winning smile, and took her very solid hand between her own tiny palms.

“Don’t be cross, Pigott, dear,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.  I couldn’t help going—­I couldn’t indeed; and then I stopped talking to Mr. Fraser.”

“There, there, I should just like to know who can be cross with you when you put on those ways.  Are your feet wet?  Ah!  I thought so.  Run on in and take them off.”

“Won’t that be just a little difficult?” and she was gone with a merry laugh.

“There, sir, that’s just like her, catching a body up like and twisting what she says, till you don’t know which is head and which is heels.  I’ll be bound you found her down yonder;” and she nodded towards the churchyard.

“Yes.”

Pigott drew a little nearer, and spoke in a low voice.

“’Tis my belief, sir, that that child sees things; she is just the oddest child I ever saw.  There’s nothing she likes better than to slip out of a night, and to go to that there beastly churchyard, saving your presence, for ‘company,’ as she calls it—­nice sort of company, indeed.  And it is just the same way with storms.  You remember that dreadful gale a month ago, the one that took down the North Grove and blew the spire off Rewtham Church.  Well, just when it was at its worst, and I was a-sitting and praying that the roof might keep over our heads, I look round for Angela, and can’t see her.  ’Some of your tricks again,’ thinks I to myself; and just then up comes Mrs. Jakes to say that Sam had seen little missy creeping down the tunnel walk.  I was that scared that I ran down, got hold of Sam, for Jakes said he wouldn’t go out with all them trees a-flying about in the air like straws—­no, not for a thousand pounds, and off we set after her.”  Here Pigott paused to groan at the recollection of that walk.

“Well,” said Mr. Fraser, who was rather interested—­everything about this queer child interested him; “where did you find her?”