n, Mrs. Blanchard sent us a most kind message from
the great house to say that her servants were at our disposal, if we
wanted any assistance. The least papa and I could do, after that, was to
call and thank her. We saw Mrs. Blanchard and Miss Blanchard. Mistress
was charming, and miss looked perfectly lovely in her mourning. I'm sure
you admire her? She's tall and pale and graceful--quite your idea of
beauty, I should think?"

"Nothing like it," began Allan. "My idea of beauty at the present
moment--"

Miss Milroy felt it coming, and instantly took her hand off his arm.

"I mean I have never seen either Mrs. Blanchard or her niece," added
Allan, precipitately correcting himself.

Miss Milroy tempered justice with mercy, and put her hand back again.

"How extraordinary that you should never have seen them!" she went on.
"Why, you are a perfect stranger to everything and everybody at Thorpe
Ambrose! Well, after Miss Blanchard and I had sat and talked a little
while, I heard my name on Mrs. Blanchard's lips and instantly held my
breath. She was asking papa if I had finished my education. Out came
papa's great grievance directly. My old governess, you must know, left
us to be married just before we came here, and none of our friends
could produce a new one whose terms were reasonable. 'I'm told, Mrs.
Blanchard, by people who understand it better than I do,' says papa,
'that advertising is a risk. It all falls on me, in Mrs. Milroy's state
of health, and I suppose I must end in sending my little girl to school.
Do you happen to know of a school within the means of a poor man?' Mrs.
Blanchard shook her head; I could have kissed her on the spot for doing
it. 'All my experience, Major Milroy,' says this perfect angel of a
woman, 'is in favor of advertising. My niece's governess was originally
obtained by an advertisement, and you may imagine her value to us when I
tell you she lived in our family for more than ten years.' I could have
gone down on both my knees and worshipped Mrs. Blanchard then and there;
and I only wonder I didn't! Papa was struck at the time--I could see
that--and he referred to it again on the way home. 'Though I have been
long out of the world, my dear,' says papa, 'I know a highly-bred woman
and a sensible woman when I see her. Mrs. Blanchard's experience puts
advertising in a new light; I must think about it.' He has thought about
it, and (though he hasn't openly confessed it to me) I know that he