and cried hard last night, and says to me: 'Oh, mother, if Miss
Fox-Seton could just manage to take me as a maid, I would rather be it
than anything. Traps don't feed the heart, mother, and I've a feeling
for Miss Fox-Seton as is perhaps unbecoming to my station.' But we've
got the men in the house ticketing things, miss, and we want to know
what we shall do with the articles in your bed-sitting-room."

The friendliness of the two faithful Cupps and the humble Turkey-red
comforts of the bed-sitting-room had meant home to Emily Fox-Seton. When
she had turned her face and her tired feet away from discouraging
errands and small humiliations and discomforts, she had turned them
toward the bed-sitting-room, the hot little fire, the small, fat black
kettle singing on the hob, and the two-and-eleven-penny tea-set. Not
being given to crossing bridges before she reached them, she had never
contemplated the dreary possibility that her refuge might be taken away
from her. She had not dwelt upon the fact that she had no other real
refuge on earth.

As she walked among the sun-heated heather and the luxuriously droning
bees, she dwelt upon it now with a suddenly realising sense. As it came
home to her soul, her eyes filled with big tears, which brimmed over and
rolled down her cheeks. They dropped upon the breast of her linen blouse
and left marks.

"I shall have to find a new bed-sitting-room somewhere," she said, the
breast of the linen blouse lifting itself sharply. "It will be so
different to be in a house with strangers. Mrs. Cupp and Jane--" She was
obliged to take out her handkerchief at that moment. "I am afraid I
can't get anything respectable for ten shillings a week. It Was very
cheap--and they were so nice!"

All her fatigue of the early morning had returned. Her feet began to
burn and ache, and the sun felt almost unbearably hot. The mist in her
eyes prevented her seeing the path before her. Once or twice she
stumbled over something.

"It seems as if it must be farther than four miles," she said. "And then
there is the walk back. I _am_ tired. But I must get on, really."

Chapter Six

The drive to the ruins had been a great success. It was a drive of just
sufficient length to put people in spirits without fatiguing them. The
party came back to lunch with delightful appetities. Lady Agatha and
Miss Cora Brooke had pink cheeks. The Marquis of Walderhurst had behaved
charmingly to both of them. He had helpe