perating to Miss Standish,--one to be
supposed to know what she did not and thereby to be cheated of
acquiring the information, the other to be suspected of not knowing
what she remembered perfectly.

"Not know Tilly Marsden! Well, you must think I am losing my
faculties. I wish you would not waste your time in telling things I
know as well as you do; but what I would like to hear is how she came
to be in this house."

"Mr. Flint brought her," answered Winifred, with unkind brevity.

"Ah!" commented Miss Standish, with an upward inflection, "and did he
explain how it happened that she was under his protection?"

"I did not insult him by inquiring," flashed Winifred, "and I will not
have him insulted in my presence."

Miss Standish looked at the girl over her glasses, as if she suspected
her of having lost her wits. We are all of us surprised by a response
which seems to us vehement beyond the proximate cause of the present
occasion; we fail to allow for the slow-gathering irritation, the
unseen sources of excitement which collect in the caverns of the mind
like fire-damp ready to explode at the naked flame of one flickering
candle. Winifred had the grace to be instantly ashamed of her
impulsive irritability. She had already set before herself the
standard of self-control which she saw and reverenced in Flint.

"Excuse me," she said. "I was awake almost all night, and am tired and
nervous. Mr. Flint met Tilly Marsden by accident in the street. She
did not know where to go, and so he brought her here. My father
approved," she added a little haughtily.

"But why did she appeal to Mr. Flint?" pursued Miss Standish, who
clung to her inquiries like a burr.

"Because she was in love with him," blurted out Winifred, irritated
beyond the power of silence. "Can't you see! _This_ was why I asked
him to leave Nepaug last summer."

"Tilly Marsden in love with Mr. Flint!" echoed Miss Standish, amazed
beyond the desire to appear to have suspected it all along. "I can't
understand it."

"I can," said Winifred; "I can understand it perfectly. Poor girl! I
am heartily sorry for her."

"Well, you needn't be," responded Miss Standish, with an asperity born
of impatience at her own lack of astuteness. "For my part, I have no
doubt she has enjoyed the situation thoroughly from beginning to end.
No, don't talk to me. I know those hysterical people. All they care
about is making a sensation and being the centre of attention. It i