MONTHLY PACKET OF EVENING READINGS FOR Members of the English Church. EDITED BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE, AUTHOR OF THE HEIR OF REDCLIFFE, THIRD SERIES. VOLUME XIX. PARTS CIX. TO CXIV. JANUARY-JUNE, 1890. LONDON: WALTER SMITH AND INNES (LATE MOZLEY), 31 & 32, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. 6760 The Monthly Packet. JANUARY, 1890. THE HOUSE MARTIN'S TALE. BY W. WARDE FOWLER. LITTLE Miss Gwenny was sitting alone in the garden, one warm afternoon in September, taking her tea. Her comfortable little garden chair was placed under the projecting eaves on the shady side of the parsonage; the unclipped jessamine that climbed up the wall was clustering around her, and a soft breeze was stirring its long shoots, and gently lifting the little girl's locks with the same breath. looked the picture of comfort and enjoyment. She On the little table by her side were the tea-tray, and a well-worn copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.' She was not reading, however, though now and then she turned over the pages and looked at a picture. Except when she did so, she kept her eyes half-closed, and leaning back in her chair, gazed sleepily into the garden through her drooping eyelashes. The fact was, that she was every minute expecting to see a white rabbit come scudding up the lawn. If only that white rabbit would appear, she knew that it would be all right. What other wonderful things might happen, she could not guess, and to say the truth, she was a little anxious about them. But that something wonderful would happen, so soon as the rabbit should be kind enough to come for her, she had no doubt at all. Twice before during that summer she had contrived to have the garden to herself, without fear of interruption from parents, brothers, servants or visitors; but the rabbit had never come, and this would very likely be her last chance before cold and rain set in. Now in spite of her tea and her book, and her beloved solitude, Miss Gwenny was not at this moment in quite such a happy frame of mind as to deserve being called upon by a white rabbit. Several little things had happened to vex her; and when one is vexed, it is impossible to expect that either white rabbits, or Cheshire cats, or mock turtles, or gryphons, will wait upon one at pleasure and tell their tales, much less such very particular personages as hatters or March hares. It was true that her brothers were well out of the way at a cricket match, and that her father and mother had just set out on a VOL. 19. 1 PART 109, |