r uncle had not wanted your mother so much it would have
been nice to have her here with us. She is such an experienced person,
and so kind. I never forget how kind she was to me when I had the little
room in Mortimer Street."

"Oh! my lady, you was kind to _us_," cried Jane.

She recalled afterwards, with tears, how her ladyship moved nearer to
her and took her hand with what Jane called "her wonderful _good_ look,"
which always brought a lump to her throat.

"But I always count on you, Jane," she said. "I count on you so much."

"Oh! my lady," Jane cried again, "it's my comfort to believe it. I'd lay
down my life for your ladyship, I would indeed."

Emily sat down, and on her face there was a soft, uplifted smile.

"Yes," she said, and Jane Cupp saw that she was reflective again, and
the words were not addressed exactly, to herself, "one would be quite
ready to lay down one's life for the person one loved. It seems even a
little thing, doesn't it?"

Chapter Fourteen

Lady Walderhurst remained in town a week, and Jane Cupp remained with
her, in the house in Berkeley Square, which threw open its doors to
receive them on their arrival quite as if they had never left it. The
servants' hall brightened temporarily in its hope that livelier doings
might begin to stir the establishment, but Jane Cupp was able to inform
inquirers that the visit was only to be a brief one.

"We are going back to Palstrey next Monday," she explained. "My lady
prefers the country, and she is very fond of Palstrey; and no wonder. It
doesn't seem at all likely she'll come to stay in London until his
lordship gets back."

"We hear," said the head housemaid, "that her ladyship is very kind to
Captain Osborn and his wife, and that Mrs. Osborn's in a delicate state
of health."

"It would be a fine thing for us if it was in our family," remarked an
under housemaid who was pert.

Jane Cupp looked extremely reserved.

"Is it true," the pert housemaid persisted, "that the Osborns can't
abide her?"

"It's true," said Jane, severely, "that she's goodness itself to them,
and they ought to adore her."

"We hear they don't," put in the tallest footman. "And who wonders. If
she was an angel, there's just a chance that she may give Captain Osborn
a wipe in the eye, though she is in her thirties."

"It's not for _us_," said Jane, stiffly, "to discuss thirties or forties
or fifties either, which are no business of ours. There's one gentl