ams seemed to become all at once
impossible of fulfilment.

'I do not think they mean, the ladies, to patronise. Do you not think
the girls imagine, or at least exaggerate?'

'Maybe; but Susan Greenlees--a lassie I ken, that works in a
print-mill--telt me one o' them reproved her for haein' a long white
ostrich feather in her hat, and Susan, she just says, "Naebody askit you
to pay for it," an' left.'

Gladys relapsed into silence; and Teen, all unconscious of the cold
water she had thrown so copiously on a bright enthusiasm, sat back
leisurely, and looked about her interestedly.

'Here we are,' said Gladys, at length rousing herself up, though with an
evident effort; 'and there is Mrs. Macintyre at the gate. You have never
seen her, you say? Hasn't she a nice kind face?'

Gladys drew rein when they had passed through the gate, and introduced
the two. Mrs. Macintyre, who looked like a different being in her warm
grey tweed gown, neat cap, and black apron, gave the pale city girl a
hearty hand-shake, and prophesied that Bourhill air would soon bring a
rose into her cheek. Gladys nodded, and said she hoped so, then drove on
to the house. And when they went up the long flight of steps and into
the wide, warm, beautiful hall, Teen's shyness returned to her, and if
it had been possible she would have turned and fled.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE UNEXPECTED.

It did not occur to Gladys to give her guest quarters at the lodge
beside Mrs. Macintyre, where, it might have been thought, she would be
more at home. Having invited her to Bourhill, she treated her in all
respects like any other guest. Teen, after the first fit of shyness wore
off, accepted it all as a matter of course, and conducted herself in a
calm and undisturbed manner, which secretly astonished Gladys. All the
while, however, her new surroundings and experiences made a profound
impression on the awakened mind of the city girl. Nothing escaped the
keen vision of her great dark eyes. Every detail of the beautiful old
house was photographed on her memory; she could have told how many
chairs were in the drawing-room, and described every picture on the
dining-room walls. Between her and little Miss Peck--the brisk,
happy-hearted spinster, who appeared to have taken a new lease of
life--there was speedily established a very good understanding, which
was also a source of amazement to Gladys. She had anticipated exactly
the reverse.

'My dear