her plans
became known. Four thousand pounds might be raised on the Brookfield
property, but, if this sum could be multiplied by five, Mrs. Barton felt
she would be going into the matrimonial market armed to the teeth, and
prepared to meet all comers. And, seeking the solution of this problem,
Milord and Mrs. Barton sat on the sofa, drawn up close together, their
knees touching; he, although gracious and urbane as was his wont, seemed
more than usually thoughtful. She, although as charmful and cajoling as
ever, in the pauses of the conversation allowed an expression of anxiety
to cloud her bright face. Fifteen thousand pounds requires a good deal
of accounting for, but, after many arguments had been advanced on either
side, it was decided that she had made, within the last seven years,
many successful investments. She had commenced by winning five hundred
pounds at racing, and this money had been put into Mexican railways. The
speculation had proved an excellent one, and then, with a few airy and
casual references to Hudson Bay, Grand Trunks, and shares in steamboats,
it was thought the creation of Olive's fortune could be satisfactorily
explained to a not too exacting society.

Three or four days after, Mrs. Barton surprised the young ladies by
visiting them in the sitting-room. Barnes was working at the machine,
Olive stood drumming her fingers idly against the window-pane.

'Just fancy seeing you, mamma! I was looking out for Milord; he is a
little late to-day, is he not?' said Olive.

'I do not expect him to-day--he is suffering from a bad cold; this
weather is dreadfully trying. But how snug you are in your little room;
and Alice is absolutely doing needlework.'

'I wonder what I am doing wrong now,' thought the girl.

Barnes left the room. Mrs. Barton threw some turf upon the fire, and she
looked round. Her eyes rested on the cardboard boxes--on the bodice left
upon the work-table--on the book that Alice had laid aside, and she
spoke of these things, evidently striving to interest herself in the
girl's occupation. At length she said:

'If the weather clears up I think we might all go for a drive; there is
really no danger. The Land League never has women fired at. We might go
and see the Brennans. What do you think, Olive?'

'I don't care to go off there to see a pack of women,' the girl replied,
still drumming her fingers on the window-pane.

'Now, Olive, don't answer so crossly, but come and sit down her