lf, told the story of
the preceding twenty-four hours to the eager Desmond's sympathetic
ears. 'Well done, Broomie!' was the boy's exultant comment on the
tale of the codicil.

The house after Desmond's departure settled dreamily down. Pamela,
with red eyes, retreated to the schoolroom, and began to clear up
the debris left by the packing; Alice Gaddesden went to sleep in
the drawing-room; Mrs. Strang wrote urgent letters to registry
offices, who now seldom answered her; the Squire was in the library,
and Elizabeth retreated early to her own room. She spent a good deal
of time in writing up a locked diary, and finishing up a letter to
her mother. Then she saw to her astonishment that it was nearly one
o'clock, and began to feel sleepy.

The night was warm, and before undressing she put out her light, and
threw up her window. There was a moon nearly at the full outside,
and across the misty stretches of the park the owls were calling.

Suddenly she heard a distant footstep, and drew back from the
window. A man was pacing slowly up and down an avenue of pollarded
limes which divided the rose-garden from the park. His figure could
only be intermittently seen; but it was certainly the Squire.

She drew the curtains again without shutting the window; and for
long after she was in bed she still heard the footstep. It awakened
many trains of thought in her--of her own position in this household
where she seemed to have become already mistress and indispensable;
of Desmond's last words with her; of the relations between father
and son; of Captain Chicksands and his most agreeable company; of
Pamela's evident dislike of her, and what she could do to mend it.

As to Pamela, Elizabeth's thoughts went oddly astray. She was vexed
with the girl for what had seemed to the elder woman her young
rudeness to a gallant and distinguished man. Why, she had scarcely
spoken a word to him during the sitting on the hill! In some way,
Elizabeth supposed, Captain Chicksands had offended her--had not
made enough of her perhaps? But girls must learn now to accept
simpler and blunter manners from their men friends. She guessed that
Pamela was in that self-conscious, _exalte_ mood of first youth
which she remembered so well in herself--fretting too, no doubt,
poor child! over the parting from Desmond. Anyway she seemed to have
no particular interest in Arthur Chicksands, nor he in her, though
his tone in speaking to her had been, naturally, fam