lied to me:

"My dear Laura, children--and you are but a child--should not ask such
questions."

"I am a very old child," I replied, with a sigh. "But whether I am a
child or not, I can see that very little attention is ever paid to my
mother."

"Has Lady Tayne complained?" she asked, hurriedly.

"No, and never will," I replied, with all a child's pride in a mother's
courage.

"I thought as much," she said, with a peculiar smile. "Lady Tayne has
plenty of sense."

"She has plenty of patience," I replied, "and plenty of opportunity of
exercising it."

"So much the better," replied Miss Reinhart, and then we resumed our
lessons.

It was soon all over with the old servants. I wonder that my father, so
sensible, so keen in other matters, could not see that her sole ambition
was to have every person in the house under her control. One by one the
old servants disappeared--there was some fault or other with each
one--and my father grew more passive at each attack, and made less
resistance; he was so deeply impressed with the fact that every change
resulted in greater comfort for himself.

One morning when, by some rare chance, I was left alone with Sir Roland,
and the faces of strange servants passed in and out:

"Papa," I said, "we have great changes in the house."

"Yes," he replied, brightly; "and so far as I can see, they have
conduced greatly to our benefit."

"I want you to grant me one favor, papa--will you?"

"Certainly, my Laura," he replied. "Why, what does this mean?" for I had
thrown myself in his arms with passionate tears--"what is this, Laura?"

"I want you to promise me," I said, "that, whatever changes go on, you
will not let any one send mamma's maid, Patience, away?"

He looked dreadfully shocked.

"Your mother's maid, child?" he said. "Why, who dare even suggest such a
thing? Certainly not. The whole household is constructed with a view to
your mother's happiness."

So she had told him, and so he believed. It was quite useless talking;
he did not see, he did not, indeed.

I knew Emma disliked her and Patience, too. The farce of her being my
mother's companion was very soon played out. She never came near, unless
my father went, and then she did not remain long. But--and we, the three
who loved her, noted it with dismay--every day Miss Reinhart became more
of a companion to my father. She ingratiated herself by degrees. At
first it had been merely his breakfast, afterward she offered