would be the same. You
may leave her with Miss Standish and me. We will take care of her, and
try to make something of her."

"I suppose I ought to say 'Good-by' to her?"

"By no means. Go, and leave her to me."

"Have you no word for me at parting?"

"No, not now,--all that can wait."

"Good-night, then, since you will let me say nothing more."

Winifred answered with a farewell glance, full of confidence and of
love. Then the door closed after Flint, and Winifred threw open the
folding-doors into the dining-room.

"How do you do, Miss Marsden?" she said, taking Tilly's hand.

The girl looked at her, stupidly bewildered.

"You do not recognize me, I see, but I remember you from seeing you
with Leonard Davitt down at Nepaug."

Tilly blushed painfully, but Winifred took no notice of her
embarrassment.

"Mr. Flint said you were belated in your trip to the city, so he
brought you to us for the night," Winifred continued, as if it were
the most natural episode in the world.

"And did he tell you--"

"He told me nothing else. He was in a hurry, I suppose."

"Then he is gone?"

"Yes, he is gone, and I am glad, because it is time you went to bed
after you have had such a tiresome journey. Come upstairs. I am going
to give you the little room next Miss Standish's. You remember her
perhaps--she was at Nepaug too. To-morrow we will talk over anything
you wish to tell me. Come!"

CHAPTER XXI

GOD'S PUPPETS

"God's puppets best and worst are we,
There is no last or first."

The breakfast-hour in the Anstice household was regularly irregular. A
movable fast, Professor Anstice called it. On the morning of
Thanksgiving Day the hand of the old Dutch clock pointed to nine when
Winifred Anstice entered the dining-room.

A freshly lighted fire blazed on the hearth. The lamp beneath the
silver urn blazed on the table. Toasted muffins and delicate dishes of
honey and marmalade stood upon the buffet.

"Will you wait for Mr. Anstice?" McGregor asked as she entered.

"No, McGregor, I am like time and tide, and wait for no man or woman
either; but you need not hurry, for I will look over my mail while the
eggs are boiling,--just four minutes, remember. I don't want them
bullets, nor yet those odious slimy trickling things which seem only
held together by the shell."

McGregor smiled,--a smile it had cost him twenty y