own groom. She was very kind to a village boy who had been
recently taken on as an additional assistant in the stable, and who was
rather frightened and shy. She knew his mother, who had a large family,
and she had, indeed, given the boy his place that he might be trained
under the great Mr. Buckham, who was coachman and head of the stables.
She said encouraging things which quite cheered him, and she spoke
privately to Mr. Buckham about him. Then she walked in the park a
little, but not for long. When she came back Rosalie was waiting for
her.

"I want to take a long drive," she said. "I feel restless. Will you
come with me, Betty?" Yes, she would go with her, so Buckham brought the
landau with its pair of big horses, and they rolled down the avenue,
and into the smooth, white high road. He took them far--past the
great marshes, between miles of bared hedges, past farms and scattered
cottages. Sometimes he turned into lanes, where the hedges were closer
to each other, and where, here and there, they caught sight of new
points of view between trees. Betty was glad to feel Rosy's slim body
near her side, and she was conscious that it gradually seemed to draw
closer and closer. Then Rosy's hand slipped into hers and held it softly
on her lap.

When they drove together in this way they were usually both of them
rather silent and quiet, but now Rosalie spoke of many things--of
Ughtred, of Nigel, of the Dunholms, of New York, and their father and
mother.

"I want to talk because I'm nervous, I think," she said half
apologetically. "I do not want to sit still and think too much--of
father's coming. You don't mind my talking, do you, Betty?"

"No," Betty answered. "It is good for you and for me." And she met the
pressure of Rosy's hand halfway.

But Rosy was talking, not because she did not want to sit still and
think, but because she did not want Betty to do so. And all the time she
was trying to thrust away the thought growing in her mind.

They spent the evening together in the library, and Betty read aloud.
She read a long time--until quite late. She wished to tire herself as
well as to force herself to stop listening.

When they said good-night to each other Rosy clung to her as desperately
as she had clung on the night after her arrival. She kissed her again
and again, and then hung her head and excused herself.

"Forgive me for being--nervous. I'm ashamed of myself," she said.
"Perhaps in time I shall get over