Mrs. Mapper had chosen 'Annie Laurie,' and she began by playing over
the air. One or two of the children knew it, but not the words; these,
it was found, were always very quickly learnt by singing a verse a few
times over.

'Do you know 'Annie Laurie,' Miss Trent?' Mrs. Mapper asked.

It was one of old Mr. Boddy's favourites; Thyrza had sung it to him
since she was seven years old.

'Let us sing it together then, will you?'

They began. Thyrza was already thoroughly at home, and this music was
an unexpected delight. After a line or two, Mrs. Mapper's voice sank.
Thyrza stopped and looked inquiringly, meeting a wonder in the other's
eyes. Mrs. Mapper was a woman of much prudence; she merely said:

'I find I've got a little cold. Would you mind singing it alone?'

So Thyrza sang the song through. A moment or two of quietness followed.

'Now I think you'll soon know it, children,' said Mrs. Mapper. 'Lizzie
Smith, I see you've got it already. Miss Trent will be kind enough to
sing the first verse again; you sing with her, Lizzie--and you too,
Mary. That's a clever girl! Now we shall get on.'

The practising went on till all were able to join in fairly well. After
that, Mrs. Mapper played the favourite dance tunes, and the children
danced merrily. Whilst they were so enjoying themselves, Mrs. Ormonde
came into the room. She had dined, and wanted Thyrza to come and sit
with her, for she was alone. But first she had five minutes of real
laughter and play with the children. They loved her, every one of them,
and clung to her desperately when she said sue could stay no longer.

'Good-bye!' she said, waving her hand at the door.

'No, no!' cried several voices. 'There's 'good-night' yet, Mrs.
Ormonde!'

'Why, of course there is,' she laughed; 'but that's no reason why I
shouldn't say good-bye.'

She took Thyrza's hand and led her down.

'You shall have some supper with me afterwards,' she said 'The little
ones have theirs now; but it's too early for you.'

If the drawing-room had been a marvel to Thyrza in the daylight, it was
yet more so now that she entered it and found two delicately shaded
lamps giving a rich uncertainty to all the beautiful forms of furniture
and ornaments. She had thought the Grails' parlour luxurious. And the
dear old easy-chair, now so familiar to her, how humble it was compared
with this in which Mrs. Ormonde seated her! These wonders caused her no
envy or uneasy desire. In looking at a