in Miss Heritage's private correspondence."

"Nor I," declared Edna. "I only thought that if she is in any
trouble--She's so secretive, you know, Mums. I've tried more than once
to get her to tell me what cosmetic she uses for her hands--and she
never will own to using any at all!"

"I'm sure, Edna, you've no reason to be ashamed of your hands."

"Oh, they look all right just now," said Edna, examining them
dispassionately. "But they _will_ turn lobster colour at the most
inconvenient times. Hers never do--and it _does_ seem so unfair,
considering--" She broke off here, as Daphne Heritage entered.

"Well, Miss Heritage?" said Mrs. Stimpson, as the girl hesitated on
seeing Edna. "Did you wish to speak to me?"

"I did rather want your advice about something," said Daphne, who had a
paper, and a small leather case in her hands; "I thought I might find
you alone. It doesn't matter--it will do quite well another time."

"Don't let _me_ prevent you, Miss Heritage," said Edna. "If you don't
wish to speak to Mother before me, I've no desire to remain. I was just
going up to change in any case."

She went out with a slightly huffy air, which was not entirely due to
baffled curiosity, for she admired Daphne enough to resent being quietly
kept at a distance.

"It's about this," explained Daphne, after Edna had made her exit--"a
bill that has just been sent on to me." She gave the paper to Mrs.
Stimpson as she spoke. "I don't know quite what to do about it."

She looked very young and inexperienced as she stood there, a slim
girlish figure with masses of burnished hair the colour of ripe corn,
braided and coiled as closely as possible round her small head, but
there was no trace of timidity or subservience in her manner. In the
slight form, with the milk-white skin, delicate profile and exquisite
hands, there was a distinction that struck her employer as quite
absurdly out of keeping with her position.

"The only thing to do about a bill, my dear," said Mrs. Stimpson, "is to
pay it. But nearly thirty pounds is a large sum for you to owe your
milliner."

"It's for things Mother--my adopted mother, you know--ordered for me.
Stephanie was always told to send in the account to her. But this seems
to have been overlooked, and the executors have sent it on to me. Only I
can't pay it myself--unless you wouldn't mind advancing me the money out
of my salary."

"I couldn't possibly. You forget that it would represent over a yea