Kenneth Snowden, aged twelve, looked as he felt, highly pleased with himself in being able to impart such interesting information to his brother and sisters.

"I wonder who in the world has taken that little hole of a place." This from Rupert, Kenneth's twin brother. "I'd as soon live in a rabbit-hutch as there."

"A rabbit-hutch would just suit you, with your long ears," laughed Kenneth, his eyes twinkling with fun.

Rupert was in no wise offended at his brother's personal remark, nor at the giggles with which it was greeted by his sisters, Gertie and Marcia.

"I'd rather have long ears," said he, "than a freckly nose like yours, old chap. But now," he went on, "what about Rose Cottage? Did you see anything of the people who have taken it?"

"Yes," was the prompt reply. "I saw an old woman and a little girl get out of a cab. They were plainly dressed, both of 'em; but somehow I don't fancy they were common people."

"Common people!" It was Nurse who here spoke. She was sitting by the window at needlework, doing her best to catch the receding winter daylight. "I should just think they are not indeed," said she. "Mrs. Russell, the lady who has taken Rose Cottage, used to be so rich that she could have curled her hair in banknotes if she had chosen to do so."

If Nurse had wished to create a sensation, she had succeeded. Four pairs of eyes greeted hers with excited interest. It was little seven-year-old Marcia, however, who first spoke—

"Oh, how funny!" she cried. "Fancy curling your hair in banknotes. Do people ever do such things, Nurse?"

"Of course not, you little silly!" cried Gertie, with the wisdom of ten years. "Be quiet, and let your elders talk."

Little Marcia, thus snubbed, relapsed for a while into silence.

"What made the old lady poor, Nurse?" asked Kenneth. "She must be jolly hard-up to take a place like Rose Cottage."

"She lost her money in a big bank smash," replied Nurse; "and since that time she's been so proud and unsociable she won't have anything to do with anybody. My sister used to be her maid; that's how I know."

"I wonder if she'll let the little girl be friends with us," said Marcia, with a wistful note in her voice.

"I don't suppose she will. Poor little motherless Ella!" Here Nurse sighed and looked very sympathetic. "She has rather a hard time of it, I should fancy."

"What about her father?" questioned Rupert.

"Oh, he's away, trying to make his fortune in Africa."

At this moment the tea-bell rang, and the conversation ended; but Nurse had said enough to rouse a great interest in the hearts of her young charges concerning the new inmates of Rose Cottage.

As it happened, Kenneth was the first of the Snowden family to make the acquaintance of little Ella Russell. Their meeting was in this wise.

A day or two after the inmates of Rose Cottage had settled in their new abode, Kenneth chanced to see Ella standing in the garden.

Rose Cottage was situated close to the large white gates which led to Berryland Hall—the residence of the Snowden family—hence the children's interest in the tiny abode.

It was a bleak January morning, and little Ella, with a dust-pan in her hand, was about to sprinkle cinder ashes on the garden path. It was in an exceedingly slippery state owing to the frost.

"Hullo, Cinderella!" said Kenneth with a twinkle in his eye. "What are you doing that for?"

"Because it's so slippery," replied the child with a certain little dignity; "and my name isn't 'Cinderella,' please."

"No, but that's what I'm going to call you. Your name is Ella, isn't it?"

"Yes, but how did you know?" Little Ella looked surprised.

"A little bird told me," said Kenneth mysteriously. "And as we are getting friendly over the cinders, you see, it's just the right name for you."

For a moment Ella looked doubtful as to whether to be cross or pleased at her new name, but her natural sweet temper soon came to the fore.

"If I'm Cinderella," she said, "I know who's the Prince."

"Who?" questioned Kenneth with interest.

"Father is," she answered confidentially; "when he comes home, Grannie and I are going to live in a big house again, and we shan't be poor any more."

"That'll be jolly for you, won't it?"

Kenneth was beginning to feel much interested in this little girl with the pretty blue eyes and brown curly hair.

"Yes, I should just think it will," said Ella; "but I mustn't stop talking any more. Grannie will be ever so cross if she—"

The rest of the sentence was never finished, for little Ella, in turning round to fulfil her task, suddenly slipped and fell to the ground.

A cry of unmistakable pain came from her lips, and then she grew so dreadfully white that Kenneth was frightened.

"I say, you aren't hurt much, are you?" he asked in anxious concern.

"It's—it's my arm," sobbed out the child. "I'm afraid—afraid—"

The little voice died away. Poor "Cinderella" had well-nigh fainted with the pain of a broken arm.

Kenneth, now thoroughly alarmed, rushed to the cottage door and shouted his loudest.

"Gracious me! Whatever is the matter?" It was old Mrs. Russell who answered his call, the one little maid which the household boasted having gone into the town shopping.

"It's Cinder—the little girl, I mean," cried Kenneth agitatedly; "she's tumbled down and hurt her arm."

"You pushed her, I suppose; you great rough boy!" was the old lady's harsh reply. She was so upset that she felt she must scold somebody.

"No—no, I didn't; she fell, and now she's fainted."

"Rubbish!" was the ejaculation. "Ella," she went on, calling in a thin, shrill voice, "pick yourself up, like a good girl, and come in out of the cold. Be quick about it, too."

There was real anxiety in her tone, but to Kenneth it sounded horribly cross and unsympathetic.

At this moment poor little Ella opened her eyes, her faintness being only of a slight nature.

With Kenneth's aid, for Mrs. Russell was afraid to venture herself upon the slippery pathway without her stick, she managed to get up and walk slowly to the house.

Mrs. Russell's keen eyes soon saw that the child's left arm was broken, and her first thought was for a doctor. Kenneth, guessing what was in her mind, suggested that he should run for Dr. Soames, who lived not far off. The old lady's face softened at his thoughtfulness.

"You are a sensible lad," said she, "and I shall be much obliged if you will."

Kenneth needed no second bidding, but hurried off for Dr. Soames as fast as his legs could carry him.

[CHAPTER II]

BRUNO TO THE RESCUE

"YOU'RE late home to dinner, Ken."

"I know I am, mother, but I couldn't help it," said Kenneth, as he slipped into the vacant place at the dinner table; "something really quite exciting has happened."

"What is it?" asked Rupert and Gertie in a breath, while Marcia's wondering eyes put the same question.

"Ella Russell, down at Rose Cottage, has broken her arm, and I've been to fetch Dr. Soames for her."

Mrs. Snowden's sweet, motherly face wore a look of concern.

"How did it happen?" she asked.

Kenneth then gave a graphic account of what had taken place, much to the interest of his listeners.

"Can't you go and see her, mother, this afternoon?" he said at the close of his story. "She's an awfully jolly little girl, and plucky, too."

Mrs. Snowden looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I'll call, dear Ken, certainly," she said; "but I don't know whether I shall be welcomed or not."

"Mother!"

Four voices said this in unison, for the idea of "mother" not being welcomed seemed incredible.

To the four young Snowdens, their mother represented all that was beautiful and sweet, and little wonder that it was so, for her personality was winsome and charming to a degree.

Of their father they had no vivid recollection, he having died from the effects of an accident in the hunting-field when Marcia was a wee girl of three.

"I am sure you will have a welcome, mother," went on Kenneth; "at least from Cinderella—her grandmother, too, is all right when you know her."

"How silly it sounds to call a child like that 'Cinderella,'" said Gertie, rather scornfully, for somehow Kenneth's praises of Ella Russell did not please her at all.

"I don't call it silly!" Here Marcia put her spoke in the wheel. "I think it sounds pretty."

"Cinderella is my name for her, whether you like it or not," said Kenneth obstinately.

"And you would like me to be her Fairy Godmother, Ken; isn't that so?" asked Mrs. Snowden with a smile.

It was no new thing for Kenneth to plead the cause of the lonely or helpless, for unselfishness and consideration for others were very prominent traits in his character.

Rupert was by far the more brilliant of the two, so much so, that at school the twins were called the Hare and the Tortoise. Nevertheless, as in proof of the truth of the fable, more than once the steady-going tortoise had outstripped the hare.

That self-same afternoon Mrs. Snowden, bidding the four children keep out of mischief, wended her way to Rose Cottage to inquire after the little sufferer. After which she was going to the village, bent on various errands of mercy.

"I vote we have a bit of fun this afternoon to amuse ourselves," said Rupert, soon after his mother's back was turned; "what say you youngsters to a slide on Barwell's pond?"

Gertie and Marcia looked delighted at the idea, but not so Kenneth. Barwell's pond was deep, and the ice there was showing signs of a thaw. He knew, for he had tested it that very morning.

"No, Rupert," he said very decidedly. "Barwell's pond isn't safe; why not try the Ravensbourne?"

"The Ravensbourne! Pooh, a dirty little ditch like that!" retorted Rupert. "I dare say it would suit a tortoise like you, but it won't suit me. What do you say, girls?"

Gertie, who was fully as adventurous as Rupert, scoffed at the idea of Barwell's pond not being safe, but Kenneth held his own.

"No, Rupert," he said; "we mustn't do it, old chap. I wouldn't have an accident there for anything."

Rupert here gave Gertie a knowing look, as much as to say, "Hold your tongue!"

And a few minutes after, Kenneth, thinking the matter settled, went out of doors with the object of taking Bruno—his own magnificent Newfoundland—for a run.

As soon as the lad had passed out of earshot, Rupert turned to the girls.

"Did you ever know such an old woman as Ken is!" he said, looking a trifle cross. "I believe, because he's the elder twin, he thinks he's 'father' to us all."

Marcia, in Ken's defence, spoke up bravely: "Ken isn't an old woman," retorted she; "he's better than any of us, really."

"I don't deny he's a good chap," was Rupert's reply; "but I wish he wasn't quite so fussy."

"If Ken says the ice isn't safe, I shan't go," declared Marcia.

"Well, he has said so, you little goose; so you'd better stop at home." This from Gertie.

"No, I shan't; it'll be too lonely. If you go, I shall go."

And so it was settled, and before twenty minutes had elapsed, the three younger members of the Snowden family, unknown to either Nurse or Kenneth, were enjoying themselves to their hearts' content on Barwell's pond.

"What a silly Ken was to be afraid!" cried Gertie, her cheeks glowing with the exercise. "Why, the ice is as firm as a rock."

"Yes. I only wish I'd brought my skates," replied Rupert. "I will to-morrow if it lasts like this."

"Do you think mother would mind about our coming here this afternoon?" said Marcia, who possessed a very tender conscience. "I wish, somehow, we'd asked her first."

Gertie inwardly wished the same, but fear of Rupert's ridicule kept her silent.

Meanwhile, Kenneth was having a first-rate ramble with his beloved dog. He decided to return home by the roads which led round Barwell's Farm, these being in good condition for a run. This he did, and was very soon in close quarters to the pond.

Presently, to his horror, a piercing scream rent the air, which was followed by another, and yet another.

He tore round the bend of the road which hid the pond from view, and there, in an instant, he realized what had happened. Rupert and Gertie, looking frantic with despair, were shrieking for aid, as well they might, for little Marcia had sunk beneath a hole in the ice. For one moment Kenneth's heart seemed to stand still within him for fear, and then, realizing that prompt action was necessary, he made his way with Bruno towards the dread spot.

"Get back!" he cried to Rupert and Gertie, for the ice seemed to be cracking all around.

With agonized faces the children obeyed, and Kenneth was left to the work of rescue.

"I'll save her," he added; "leave her to me and Bruno."

At this moment poor little Marcia's white, terrified face appeared above the water.

She had been sliding apart from the others where, as it happened, the ice was exceedingly thin, and unable to bear her weight. Kenneth, with never a thought of his own personal safety, made his way as far as he dared, and here it was that good old Bruno showed his mettle.

"Save her, Bruno!" he shouted. "Save her; good dog!"

Again little Marcia was rising to the surface, and the huge Newfoundland, smashing the ice right and left with his weight, plunged into the cold water. In another minute he had gripped Marcia's frock, and was making his way back to his master. In less time than it takes to relate, poor little unconscious Marcia was in Kenneth's strong keeping. By means of lying full length on the ice, the boy was able to stretch out his arms to seize the child, and in this position he dragged her, with great difficulty, beyond danger point.

Meanwhile, Rupert and Gertie, with strained and terrified eyes, were watching the proceedings from the bank. Their joy, when Kenneth joined them with Marcia in his arms, was quite unspeakable. Never in all their lives had they known such a terrible five minutes as those through which they had just passed.

"We shall have to carry her home," said Kenneth, his voice quivering with agitation; "she's quite unconscious."

Gertie looked at the little blue-cold face, with its closed eyes, and then burst into hysterical sobbing.

"Oh, Ken, she's dead; I know she is, and Rupert and I have killed her," she cried. "Oh, what shall we do—what shall we do?"

"She's not dead," answered Kenneth gravely. "I know, because I saw her eyelids move, but we must get her home as quickly as we can."

It was a very sad and subdued little party which wended its way into the lonely country road towards Berryland Hall. Kenneth found Marcia's weight too heavy to allow of quick walking. Presently, in rounding a corner, they came full tilt upon Dr. Soames, who was driving in his roomy, old-fashioned carriage towards the village.

In a moment the horse was brought to a standstill, and the doctor speedily alighted.

"Hullo!" said he. "What's wrong with Marcia?"

He had known the children from babyhood, and in spite of their many faults and, at times, harum-scarum ways, was much attached to them all. The children's relief at seeing the doctor was unbounded.

"Marcia's been very nearly drowned," vouchsafed Gertie hysterically, "and we're taking her home. Oh, please, doctor dear, see if you can't do something for her."

In a trice the good man took her from Kenneth's keeping, and was very soon feeling her pulse, with an anxious expression on his kind, clever face.

[CHAPTER III]

LITTLE ELLA'S PRAYER

DR. SOAMES then re-seated himself in the carriage, with the poor little dripping burden in his arms, the coachman being bidden to drive with all possible speed to Berryland Hall. Little did Mrs. Snowden dream, as she made her way homewards in the January dusk, of the trouble and anxiety which were awaiting her. Her visit to Rose Cottage had been of a most unsatisfactory nature, the little maid there informing her that "Missis didn't want to see any visitors, and that Miss Ella was suffering great pain with her arm."

The lady was so unused to being treated in this manner, that her feelings were considerably hurt. Upon arriving home, however, all else was forgotten in the shock of hearing of little Marcia's accident.

The news was broken to her by the doctor himself, who at the same time informed her that the child's condition was more or less critical.

The first one to bring the tidings to Rose Cottage was the baker's boy, who gave Molly, Mrs. Russell's maid, a most vivid and graphic account of the whole affair, the story losing nothing in the telling.

Molly, with big round eyes, made her way into her mistress's presence as soon as the boy had gone, the loaf still in her hand.

"What's the matter, Molly?" said Mrs. Russell in a thin querulous voice. She was sitting, with little Ella by her side, over a small fire in the tiny parlour.

"Poor little Miss Marcia, up at the Hall, has been nearly drowned," was the reply; "the baker's boy don't think she'll live out the day, and Mrs. Snowden is fit to break her heart over it."

Little Ella's face, pale already from the effects of her accident, grew paler than ever.

"Oh, Grannie," she cried, "it can't be true. I saw her pass only a day or two ago, and she looks such a darling little girl."

Ella, from her standpoint of ten years, felt quite grown up compared with little Marcia.

"I'm afraid, Ella, there's some truth in it," replied the old lady; "I saw the doctor going to the Hall quite early this morning."

Ella looked ready to cry. "Couldn't you go and call, Grannie," said the little girl pleadingly, "to see how she is? Just think how kind her brother was to me! Oh, if only we could do something for them!"

A little flush came into Mrs. Russell's withered cheeks.

"Oh no, I couldn't think of it," she answered sharply. "Molly can go up with my card and make inquiries; that will be quite sufficient."

Little Ella subsided into silence, and a short while afterwards she made her way upstairs to the tiny bedroom which she occupied, there to shed tears of pity for Marcia. Then, on a sudden, she remembered that there was something else she could do, which would be better than crying.

Certain words which her mother had said to her before she left for the Better Land, some two years previously, were wafted to her mind.

"Remember, my little Ella," she had said, "that there is nothing too big or too little to tell God about. He is our loving Heavenly Father, who has promised never to leave or forsake His children who trust in Him."

The words were as balm to the sad-hearted child, and, acting on a sudden impulse, she knelt down beside her little white bed and poured forth her soul in prayer.

"Dear Lord God," she pleaded, "I want You so much to make little Marcia Snowden well again, if it is Your holy will. And I would like to ask You something else as well, if I may. Please will You let us all be friends, Mrs. Snowden and the boys and girls up at the Hall. I feel so lonely, dear Lord God, sometimes, with my dear daddy so far away, and mother up in heaven with You. And please make me a good little girl, and kind and loving to Grannie, for Jesus' sake, Amen."

After this petition, somehow little Ella felt better.

"Now," said she to herself, "I am going to wait God's answer. I feel certain He has heard me, although heaven is such a long way off."

At this moment her Grannie called her downstairs, and, dashing away the teardrops from her eyes, the little maid obeyed with a cheerful heart.

* * * *

Two days later Kenneth Snowden presented himself at Rose Cottage with a note from his mother to Mrs. Russell. The old lady, bidding the boy be seated in the tiny parlour, opened it and read as follows—

"DEAR MRS. RUSSELL,
"I am writing to ask a great favour of you, and that is, if you will spare your little Ella to us for this afternoon and evening. Marcia (who, I am thankful to say, is now well on the road to recovery—in fact, she is coming down to nursery tea to-day) has expressed a great wish for your little grand-daughter's society, and, as the child is still weak and ailing, you would be doing a very real kindness if you would allow Ella to come. We will be mindful of her broken arm, and take every care of her. Please send word by Kenneth if you will, and let it be 'Yes.'
"With kind regards,
"Believe me, yours sincerely,
"ISABEL SNOWDEN."

Mrs. Russell, after reading the note, looked a little perplexed. Then she handed the epistle to Ella, whose eyes danced for joy as she perused it.

Kenneth, watching her meanwhile, decided she was quite "the jolliest little girl" he had ever seen.

"Oh, Grannie dear," she cried; "do let me go. Please say 'Yes.'"

As a refusal would not only be discourteous, but very unkind, Mrs. Russell somewhat unwillingly gave permission, and so commenced a friendship betwixt Rose Cottage and Berryland Hall, a friendship which was destined to bring much pleasure into little Ella's otherwise colourless existence.

What a happy afternoon it was, to be sure! Ella seemed for the time to be in a new world. Never since her father had left home had the little girl known what it meant to have any real fun or frolic. All save Gertie, who was more than a little jealous, fell in love with "Cinderella." She was so gentle, yet withal so merry and winsome.

At tea-time Kenneth and Rupert vied with each other in their attentions to the two invalids, as they called Marcia and Ella. Both children were waited upon as though they were little princesses, and very much they seemed to enjoy it too. Ella's broken arm rendered her rather helpless in some ways, but never once was she suffered to feel her crippled condition.

After tea was over, there followed a lovely chat around the nursery fire before going downstairs to Mrs. Snowden in the drawing-room.

"Let's talk about the jolliest thing that could happen in all the world," said Rupert, by way of a start.

"That would be another month's holiday," was Gertie's immediate response.

"No, it wouldn't. The nicest thing that could possibly happen would be for Uncle Phil to come home from South Africa," said Kenneth eagerly. "He's the finest chap that ever was, Cinderella," went on the boy. "The yarns he's got to tell would make your hair curl."

"It does curl now," laughed Ella, "only not so much as Gertie's and Marcia's."

"What should you like best to happen, Cinders?" said Rupert teasingly.

"Oh, to see father again!" was the quick reply. "When he comes home we are going to have such lovely times, Grannie, father and I."

"What sort of times?"

It was Gertie who spoke, with a slightly veiled sneer which was quite lost upon Ella.

"I don't know exactly," she answered; "only we shall be ever so happy."

"He'll put a glass slipper on Cinderella's foot, and just carry her right away," said Kenneth.

"Then I hope he won't come yet," cried little Marcia; "'cause we can't spare you. You'll have to go to school with us, won't you, Ella?"

Ella sighed a little sadly. "No," she said; "Grannie can't afford to send me to school—she's going to teach me herself."

"H'm!" muttered Rupert. "I should have thought she'd forgotten everything that she had learnt. Her schooldays were over so long ago."

"Oh, my Grannie's very clever!" said Ella loyally. "She plays upon the harp—fancy that!"

"So do I," was Rupert's calm statement.

"Master Rupert!" Here Nurse thought it was time to say a word. "How can you tell such stories?"

"It isn't a story, Nurse; it's as true as true, so there! I keep my harp in my pocket."

"I know what he means," laughed little Marcia, who was wonderfully recovering her spirits. "It's a penny Jew's harp."

"Clever girl!" said Rupert. "That's just what it is."

At this moment a resounding peal echoed through the house, and soon after, a cheery voice was heard in the hall below.

The children listened, then looked at one another excitedly.

"Surely it isn't—" begun Kenneth.

"Yes, it is," cried Rupert, flinging wide open the nursery door. "It's Uncle Phil home from South Africa. Hurrah! Hurrah!"

[CHAPTER IV]

CINDERELLA'S FAIRY GODMOTHER

HELTER-SKELTER down the stairs ran the three elder Snowdens, Marcia following in their rear, tightly clasping Ella's hand.

"Uncle Phil! Uncle Phil! is it really you?" cried Kenneth, who was one of the first to greet the new-comer.

The rest crowded round him delightedly.

"Yes, I believe it is," was the reply, given in the cheery voice of one who was well-pleased with his welcome. "But, there, kiddies, leave me in peace a minute; I have scarcely said 'How d'ye do!' to the mother yet."

With this, the stalwart young naval doctor flung his arms around Mrs. Snowden's neck, bestowing upon her a brotherly salute. Then came quite a hub-bub of greetings, and questionings as to how it was he had come thus unexpectedly.

"Bless you, my children," was the laughing reply, "you want to know too much. I thought I'd spring a surprise upon you all, and I've done so. I hope it hasn't been too much for your feelings."

"It has," said Rupert, with mock solemnity. "As Nurse says, 'you could have knocked me down with a feather.'"

"H'm! I dare say, you impudent young monkey. What ho!" This ejaculation was caused by Dr. Carteret, for such was Uncle Phil's name, catching sight of Ella. "Another of 'em. Come here, youngster, and say 'How d'ye do!'"

Ella advanced shyly, holding out her hand in polite greeting.

"And who may you be?" asked the doctor. "I don't seem to know your face. And what's the matter with your arm, pray?"

"Please, I'm Ella Russell," answered the child, blushing rosily, too bashful to enter into details regarding her arm.

"Russell! Now, that's funny. One of the nicest and bravest chaps I met while I was in South Africa was named Russell—Gordon Russell."

Ella's whole face was lit up with delight.

"Oh," she cried, "that must be my father, for his name is Gordon, and he is as brave—as a lion!"

"Yes, I agree with you." All on a sudden Dr. Carteret's voice had grown strangely quiet. "But for this father of yours, little Ella," he went on, "I shouldn't be here to-day."

"What do you mean, Phil dear?" asked Mrs. Snowden wonderingly.

"Well, to make a long story short, Bert Crofton—you know Bert Crofton, son of old Sir James, up at Berryland Grange—and I were out bathing one day in the river. Suddenly the poor chap was taken with cramp, and seeing he was in difficulties I swam up to him; he seized on me like an octopus and dragged me under, so that I was helpless. We were both pretty well done for when Russell swam out to our rescue. He must have been a practised hand at life-saving, for he gripped hold of Crofton in just the right way, and got him to land. Then, when I was about exhausted, for Crofton had nearly been the death of me, he managed to bring me in safety to the shore, and here I am to tell the tale."

Ella's eyes were shining like stars. "That's just like father," she said, her voice all a-quiver. "Please, did he say," she added, half pathetically, "when he was coming home?"

"No, little girl, he didn't. He's working pretty hard out there, I can tell you. One of these fine days he'll pay you a surprise visit I suspect, like I've done to these youngsters—that'll be first-rate, won't it?"

Ella nodded her head. Tears of excitement and delight were too near the surface for speech.

"Didn't I tell you, Cinderella," said Kenneth, "that Uncle Phil's yarns would make your hair curl? I declare now, it's getting quite a woolly mop."

Kenneth's fun chased away all the tears, and Ella's face grew quite sunshiny again. The next hour sped as on wings, and all too soon, so it seemed to Ella, Molly, her grandmother's little maid, called to take her home. So ended one of the happiest afternoons and evenings she had ever spent.

Uncle Phil's visit meant a series of delights for the young ones, to say nothing of the beautiful presents he had brought for them all.

"I've never given that little chum of yours, Ella Russell, a present," said Dr. Carteret to Marcia one morning. "I wonder what she would like."

Marcia, who by this time was almost herself again, answered readily enough.

"Don't you think, Uncle Phil dear, you'd better call and ask her. I believe she'd like a book best of all, but I don't know for certain."

"I'll just run round, Marcia, and find out for myself;" said Uncle Phil; "that's a very good thought of yours." And a few minutes later, he acted on his words.

It was by no means his first visit to Rose Cottage. Indeed, he had called so frequently during the ten days he had been at the Hall that he and Mrs. Russell were now on the best of terms. The old lady, upon knowing that he had met her son in South Africa, so far unbent as to make him welcome at any time; as for Ella, her pleasure in seeing him was undoubted.

Dr. Carteret found the child busy dusting the little parlour, Mrs. Russell being occupied in the kitchen beyond.

"Hullo, Cinderella!" said the young doctor cheerily. He had taken a fancy to Kenneth's name for the little girl, and rarely called her anything else.

After their first greetings were over, he told her that he had something important to say.

"I want you to make believe I'm your Fairy Godmother," he said; "just for a minute, if you please."

Ella burst into a merry laugh. "I can't," she replied, "'cause you haven't got a sugar-loaf hat."

"Well, I don't see that that matters," said Dr. Carteret with an amused smile. "Come, shut your eyes, and don't look at me. Now tell me what you would like your Fairy Godmother to do for you."

"To make my arm well first," said Ella, entering into the spirit of the joke; "then to send me to school, next—"

"Gracious me!" replied the doctor. "Your Fairy Godmother has got something to do!"

"Oh, I haven't finished yet," laughed Ella; "I want a lot of things for Grannie, and something for Molly, and—"

"What about yourself, Cinderella?"

"Oh, I should like a nice warm blue frock, and a fur and a muff, and a red tam o' shanter. After that I don't want anything else, only my dear daddy, and I want him more than all."

At this moment Mrs. Russell herself came into the room, and the conversation was turned into another channel.

A little later on, "Cinderella's" Fairy Godmother left the house with a very thoughtful expression on his kindly face. Strange to say, instead of making his way straight back to the Hall, as he had originally intended, he went to Berryland Grange, where lived old Sir James Crofton, a man possessed of considerable wealth, and of one of the kindest hearts in the world. The result of Dr. Carteret's visit was very soon made apparent.

A few days later, whilst Ella and her grandmother were sitting at breakfast, the postman brought a letter, the contents of which caused the old lady considerable surprise. She read it through twice over, and then, with trembling fingers, put it back into its envelope.

Ella, on the alert for news of her father, asked if the letter were from South Africa.

"No, my dear, it is not," was the reply; "but you can read it all the same, as it has to do with you."

Ella then read the epistle, her eyes glistening very brightly meanwhile.

[CHAPTER V]

CINDERELLA AT SCHOOL

THE all-important missive ran as follows—

"DEAR MADAM,
"I am writing to ask, as a personal favour, that you will allow me to defray the cost of your grandchild's education at Farley House School, at least until her father returns home. I make this offer in gratitude for the noble service your son rendered mine in saving his life in South Africa, the story of which doubtless you have already heard from Dr. Carteret.
"Hoping to receive a favourable reply,
"Believe me, dear madam,
"Yours very truly,
"JAMES CROFTON."

"Oh, Grannie!" exclaimed the child, throwing down the letter in her excitement. "How simply too lovely! Do write and say 'Yes.'"

"I hate accepting favours, child," was the proud reply. "It goes against the grain sorely, but—"

"Grannie, dear," interrupted the little girl in her eagerness, "I don't see that you need mind. Why, he asks it as a favour of you."

"That is only Sir James's nice way of putting it," said Mrs. Russell, who was a very keen and far-seeing old lady.

"Then you'll put it nicely to him back again, won't you, Grannie dear, and say 'Yes'?"

And to little Ella's delight, be it said, her grandmother wrote off that self-same day accepting with gratitude Sir James Crofton's generous offer.

Farley House was situated some four or five miles distant, and was the very school, in fact, which Gertie and Marcia Snowden attended.

The Christmas holidays were now drawing to a close, and with them Dr. Carteret's visit to the Hall. Before leaving, he bade good-bye to Mrs. Russell and Ella, the child being actually in tears at the idea of his going away.

The four young Snowdens' regret was very real also, the boys declaring it "a horrid shame" that he had to leave so soon.

A few days after his departure there came to Rose Cottage a large parcel, delivered by the London carrier, and addressed to "Miss Ella Russell."

Eagerly the child cut the string, and when the paper was removed, she discovered a cardboard box, on which these words were inscribed—

"CINDERELLA,
"From her FAIRY GODMOTHER."

The little girl's face was rosy with anticipation, and actually Grannie had a pink flush on her cheeks. Molly, who happened to be in the room, was equally interested and curious. The progress of undoing all the folds of paper was rather slow, owing to Ella's crippled arm, but at last it was accomplished. And there, disclosed to view, was a pretty, warm navy blue frock. Not only this, but there was a muff and a fur besides, and, to crown it all, a scarlet tam o' shanter.

Surely there never was such a happy little "Cinderella!"

Grannie was now looking quite white, but she uttered no word until Molly had gone out of the room.

Then she said, and, alas! there was no pleasure in her tones—

"I'm afraid, Ella, this has come from Mrs. Snowden. I never thought that she would so far insult me and mine."

All Ella's joy faded for the while at the sight of her grandmother's displeasure. Then again her little face lighted up.

"No, no, it isn't," she cried, suddenly making a correct guess. "It's Dr. Carteret; I know it is. He said I was to picture him as my Fairy Godmother, and I just laughed at him."

Grannie's face cleared.

"You don't mind him, Grannie dear, do you?" went on the child pleadingly. "I'm sure he only meant it kindly, and, you see, he can't forget about father saving his life."

"No, child," said Mrs. Russell; "I don't mind Dr. Carteret so much, if it is really he who has sent you such a useful present. We must try and find out."

But this was easier said than done, for many a long day passed before Mrs. Russell found out for certain who was Ella's Fairy Godmother.

* * * *

"Mother wants to know, Cinderella, if your grandmother will let us drive you to school to-morrow."

It was Kenneth who spoke, he and Rupert having called at Rose Cottage one morning on purpose to make the request. Ella looked delighted. The term had already commenced, but her arm had only just been pronounced sufficiently mended, for her to attend school.

"Oh, Ken, how jolly!" exclaimed Ella. "I'll run in and ask Grannie this very minute."

With this, the child disappeared from the doorway, very soon returning with the necessary permission. Mrs. Russell had considerably unbent, since her first coming to Berryland, towards the Snowden family, and was gradually becoming almost sociable.

"You must be ready at a quarter to nine, sharp," said Kenneth, well-pleased at Mrs. Russell's ready "Yes."

"All right," replied Ella, "I'll be punctual. I do wonder what school will be like," she went on; "I expect it will be very strange to me at first."

"Oh, you'll soon get used to it," said Kenneth good-naturedly.

"I suppose I shall—I wish you and Rupert went to Farley House School as well; what fun it would be!"

"I fancy I see myself," retorted Rupert, "at a Dame school. Why! Girls' lessons are play to ours."

But Ella, who had learnt to take Rupert's teasing for what it was worth, shook her head.

"I don't think they are all 'play,'" she said; "some girls are quite as clever as boys. Whereabouts is your school?" she added, for the little girl was intensely interested in all that concerned the Snowden family.

"Oh, further up the High Street," replied the boy; "it's a great red building, called Farley College."

Ella looked quite impressed. "And what is Farley House like?" she added, turning to Kenneth.

"You'll see for yourself to-morrow," was the answer; "if I tell you everything now, you won't have any 'surprises.'"

After a little further chat, the two boys bade good-bye, and it being near their dinner hour, they hurried off homewards.

Punctually at a quarter to nine on the following morning Ella stood on the doorstep of Rose Cottage, awaiting the arrival of the wagonette. Presently it turned the corner of the road, and a few minutes later, Ella, with the aid of Giles the coachman, had mounted into her place, a comfortable seat, beside little Marcia.

The journey betwixt school and home was usually accomplished by train, and little Ella was now the proud possessor of a season-ticket for the journey.

With a final wave to Grannie, who was watching from the window, the child started off, light of heart, en route for school.

Cinderella's prince

CINDERELLA'SPRINCE

[CHAPTER I]

[CHAPTER II]

[CHAPTER III]

[CHAPTER IV]

[CHAPTER V]

CINDERELLA'S
PRINCE