him I shall be in soon," he said. "I fancy he'll remember me.
Good-night."

Lydia was hanging over the balustrade.

"Who was it?" she asked, as Anne went up.

Anne told her and because she looked dreamy and not displeased, Lydia
asked:

"Nice?"

"Oh, yes," said Anne. "You've heard Farvie speak of him. Exactly what
Farvie said."

Lydia had gone some paces in undressing. She stood there in a white
wrapper, with her hair in its long braid, and stared at Anne for a
considering interval.

"I think I'd better tell you," said she. "I've been to see her."

There was but one person who could have been meant, and yet that was so
impossible that Anne stared and asked:

"Who?"

They had always spoken of Esther as Esther, among themselves, quite
familiarly, but now Lydia felt she would die rather than mention her
name.

"She is a hateful woman," said Lydia, "perfectly hateful."

"But what did you go for?" Anne asked, in a gentle perplexity.

"To find out," said Lydia, in a savage tearfulness, "what she means to
do."

"And what does she?"

"Nothing."

V

The house, almost of its own will, slid into order. Mary Nellen was a
wonderful person. She arranged and dusted and put questions to Anne as
to Cicero and Virgil, and then, when Anne convoyed her further, to the
colonel, and he found a worn lexicon in the attic and began to dig out
translations and chant melodious periods. The daughters could have
hugged Mary Nellen, bright-eyed and intent on advancement up the hill of
learning, for they gave him something to do to mitigate suspense until
his son should come. And one day at twilight, when they did not know it
was going to be that day at all, but when things were in a complete
state of readiness and everybody disposed to start at a sound, the front
door opened and Jeffrey, as if he must not actually enter until he was
bidden, stood there and knocked on the casing. Mary Nellen, having more
than mortal wit, seemed to guess who he was, and that the colonel must
not be startled. She appeared before Lydia in the dining-room and gave
her a signalling grimace. Lydia followed her, and met the man, now a
step inside the hall. Lydia, too, knew who it was. She felt the blood
run painfully into her face, and hoped he didn't see how confused she
was with her task of receiving him exactly right after all this time of
preparation. There was no question of kissing or in any way sealing her
sisterly devotion. She gave