'Well, Agnes, you must not take such long walks again before breakfast,' said my mother, observing that I drank an extra cup of coffee and ate nothing--pleading the heat of the weather, and the fatigue of my long walk as an excuse.

I certainly did feel feverish and tired too.
'You always do things by extremes: now, if you had taken a _short_ walk every morning, and would continue to do so, it would do you good.' 'Well, mamma, I will.' 'But this is worse than lying in bed or bending over your books: you have quite put yourself into a fever.' 'I won't do it again,' said I.
I was racking my brains with thinking how to tell her about Mr.Weston, for she must know he was coming to-morrow.

However, I waited till the breakfast things were removed, and I was more calm and cool; and then, having sat down to my drawing, I began--'I met an old friend on the sands to-day, mamma.' 'An old friend! Who could it be ?' 'Two old friends, indeed.

One was a dog;' and then I reminded her of Snap, whose history I had recounted before, and related the incident of his sudden appearance and remarkable recognition; 'and the other,' continued I, 'was Mr.Weston, the curate of Horton.' 'Mr.Weston! I never heard of him before.' 'Yes, you have: I've mentioned him several times, I believe: but you don't remember.' 'I've heard you speak of Mr.Hatfield.' 'Mr.Hatfield was the rector, and Mr.Weston the curate: I used to mention him sometimes in contradistinction to Mr.Hatfield, as being a more efficient clergyman.

However, he was on the sands this morning with the dog--he had bought it, I suppose, from the rat-catcher; and he knew me as well as it did--probably through its means: and I had a little conversation with him, in the course of which, as he asked about our school, I was led to say something about you, and your good management; and he said he should like to know you, and asked if I would introduce him to you, if he should take the liberty of calling to-morrow; so I said I would.