r Grantly on a Christmas morning. Grace Crawley
did not expect to be seen out walking by her Major Grantly, but
nevertheless she liked the cloak. By the power of her practical will,
and by her true sympathy, the elder Miss Prettyman had for a while
conquered the annoyance which, on Grace's part, was attached to the
receiving of gifts, by the consciousness of her poverty; and when
Miss Anne, with some pride in the tone of her voice, expressed a
hope that Grace would think the cloak pretty, Grace put her arms
pleasantly round her friend's neck, and declared that it was very
pretty,--the prettiest cloak in all the world!

Grace was met at the Guestwick railway-station by her friend Lilian
Dale, and was driven over to Allington in a pony carriage belonging
to Lilian's uncle, the squire of the parish. I think she will be
excused in having put on her new cloak, not so much because of the
cold as with a view of making the best of herself before Mrs. Dale.
And yet she knew Mrs. Dale would know all the circumstances of her
poverty, and was very glad that it should be so. "I am so glad that
you have come, dear," said Lily. "It will be such a comfort."

"I am sure you are very good," said Grace.

"And mamma is so glad. From the moment that we both talked ourselves
into eagerness about it,--while I was writing my letter, you know, we
resolved that it must be so."

"I'm afraid I shall be a great trouble to Mrs. Dale."

"A trouble to mamma! Indeed you will not. You shall be a trouble to
no one but me. I will have all the trouble myself, and the labour I
delight in shall physic my pain."

Grace Crawley could not during the journey be at home and at ease
even with her friend Lily. She was going to a strange house under
strange circumstances. Her father had not indeed been tried and found
guilty of theft, but the charge of theft had been made against him,
and the magistrates before whom it had been made had thought that the
charge was true. Grace knew that all the local newspapers had told
the story, and was of course aware that Mrs. Dale would have heard it.
Her own mind was full of it, and though she dreaded to speak of it,
yet she could not be silent. Miss Dale, who understood much of this,
endeavoured to talk her friend into easiness; but she feared to begin
upon the one subject, and before the drive was over they were, both
of them, too cold for much conversation. "There's mamma," said Miss
Dale as they drove up, turning out