to Lord
Borrodaile, 'each time to get that crusty old Covenanter, Jean's
grandfather, to allow her to stay at Bishopsmead. So it's the sadder for
them to have her visit cut short.'

'Why is it cut short?' he asked.

'Because the hostess took to her bed yesterday with a chill, and her
temperature was a hundred and one this afternoon.'

'Really?' said Miss Levering. 'I hadn't heard----'

'She is rather bad, I'm afraid. We are taking over another of her
guests. Of course you know him--Geoffrey Stonor.'

'Taking him over?' Miss Levering repeated.

'Yes; he was originally going to Bishopsmead this week-end, but as he's
been promising for ages to come here, it's been arranged that we should
take him off their hands. Of course we're delighted.'

Miss Levering walked on, between her two companions, looking straight in
front of her. As Lady John, with a glance at her watch, quickened the
pace--

'I'm rather unhappy at what you tell me about my cousin,' said Vida.
'She's a delicate creature.' Then, as though acting on a sudden impulse,
Vida paused. 'You mustn't mind, Lady John, but I shall have to go to
her. Can I have a trap of some sort to take me over?'

She put aside the objections with a gentle but unmistakable decision
that made Lady John say--

'I'm sure I've alarmed you more than there was the least need for. But
the carriage shall wait and bring you back just as soon as you've
satisfied yourself.'

'I can't tell, of course, till I've seen Mary. But may my maid be told
not to unpack----'

'Not unpack!'

'In case I have to send for my things.'

'My _dear_!' Lady John stopped short for very vexation. '_Don't_ desert
us! I've been so congratulating myself on having you, since I knew
Geoffrey Stonor was coming.' Again she glanced nervously at her watch.
'He is due in ten minutes! John won't like it if I'm not there.'

As she was about to hurry on, the other slackened pace. She seemed to be
revolving some further plan.

'Why shouldn't'--she turned suddenly--'why shouldn't the dogcart take me
on after dropping Mr. Farnborough at the station? Yes, that will be
simplest. Mr. Farnborough!' she waved to him as the cart came in sight,
'Wait! Good-bye! Forgive my rushing off, won't you?' she called back
over her shoulder, and then with that swift, light step of hers, she
covered by a short cut the little distance that lay between her and the
lodge gate.

'I wish I'd held my tongue,' said Lady John almost angril