ing took possession of me to try my violin. The
dusky twilight, and the fire flickering over the quaint, old-fashioned
room, seemed to bring me into a world of fancy.

I had my violin with me, as I would never trust my case in any other
hand but mine, and so, slipping off my jacket, I was soon in a dream,
playing on and on without a thought of my present surroundings.

I don't know how long I played, but as the last note died away a brisk
voice said from the further side of the room,--

'Bravo! I like to hear any one play without being conscious of
listeners.'

I started. It was Miss Rayner, leaning back in an easy chair, who
spoke; but when I apologised for making myself so at home, she said
sharply, 'Tut, child! No company manners here, or I shall wish you
away. Now I want some tea. How long have you been here?'

I told her, and then she said,

'And what do you think of my invitation? Are you pleased to be here?'

'Yes, I think I am,' I said honestly. 'I was a little shy about it at
first; but now I have come, it seems so restful and quiet.'

'That's because I was out,' she said, with a short laugh; 'but I will
allow it is a quieter house than the one you have left. When do they
leave for town?'

'To-morrow.'

'And are you longing to be with them?'

There was a quizzical gleam in her eye, as my gaze met hers.

'No,' I said a little gravely; 'they would rather be without me, and I
should not be happy with them.'

'You evidently do not shake in well with them. Ah, well! I will not
catechise you too closely the first evening. I shall soon find out
what your special fads and crotchets are. Now, would you like to come
upstairs to your room? I dine at half-past seven, and it is nearly
seven now. Have you made friends with Susan? I call her my
maid-of-all-work--she was my mother's maid years ago, and has stuck to
me ever since. I have a very small establishment, as you perceive.
Susan is house, parlour, and lady's-maid all in one, with only a young
girl to help her. John is coachman, groom, and gardener combined, and
an old cook completes our household.'

'But who helps in the--the poultry farm?' I asked, as I followed her up
the old-fashioned staircase.

'I keep a man and a boy for that part of the business; they sleep out
of the house.'

She led me into a pretty little room with a very deep window seat. It
was furnished simply, but comfortably, though quite devoid of all
knick-knacks