impossible it would be for me to spare you. On the whole, my dear, I
think you have acted with discernment. You don't age well, Frances, and
doubtless Arnold will placidly acquiesce in my decision. By all means
have him here."

"Only I think it right to mention to you, father"--here Frances stood up
and laid her long, slender white hand with a certain nervous yet
imperative gesture on the table--"I think it right to mention that if,
after seeing me, Philip still wishes to make me his wife, I shall accept
him."

"My dear!" Squire Kane started. Then a satisfied smile played over his
face. "You say this as a sort of bravado, my dear. But we really need
not discuss this theme; it positively wearies me. Have you yet made up
your mind, Frances, what room Ellen's dear child is to occupy?"

CHAPTER IV.

FLUFF.

The day on which Ellen Danvers arrived at the Firs was long remembered,
all over the place, as the hottest which had been known in that part of
the country for many a long year. It was the first week of July, and the
sun blazed fiercely and relentlessly--not the faintest little zephyr of
a breeze stirred the air--in the middle of the day, the birds altogether
ceased singing, and the Firs, lying in its sheltered valley, was hushed
into a hot, slumberous quiet, during which not a sound of any sort was
audible.

Even the squire preferred a chair in the south parlor, which was never a
cool room, and into which the sun poured, to venturing abroad; even he
shuddered at the thought of the South Walk to-day. He was not
particularly hot--he was too old for that--but the great heat made him
feel languid, and presently he closed his eyes and fell into a doze.

Frances, who in the whole course of her busy life never found a moment
for occasional dozes, peeped into the room, smiled with satisfaction
when she saw him, tripped lightly across the floor to steal a pillow
comfortably under his white head, arranged the window-curtains so as to
shade his eyes, and then ran upstairs with that swift and wonderfully
light movement which was habitual to her. She had a great deal to do,
and she was not a person who was ever much affected by the rise or fall
of the temperature. First of all, she paid a visit to a charming little
room over the porch. It had lattice windows, which opened like doors,
and all round the sill, and up the sides, and over the top of the
window, monthly roses and jasmine, wistaria and magnolia, climbed.