would still be near to each
other, Thyrza and she must in a sense part. The thought was always a
heavy one; she did not willingly entertain it.

'Do you think,' she asked at length, 'that Thyrza will feel she ought
to stay at home?'

'I think she will, when I've spoken to her about it. We want you both
to have your meals with us. Thyrza can help mother, and she'll have
more time for her reading. Of course you must be just as much together
as you like, but it would be pleasant if you would come down here to
meals. Will you do us that kindness, Lyddy?'

'But,' Lydia began, doubtfully. Mrs. Grail interrupted her:

'Now I know what you're going to say, my dear, It isn't nice of you,
Lyddy, if you spoil this little plan we've made. Just for the next
three weeks! After that you can be as independent as you please; yes,
my dear, just as proud as you please. There's a great deal of pride in
you, you know, and I don't like you the worse for it.'

'I don't think I'm proud at all,' said Lydia, smiling and reddening a
little. 'If Thyrza agrees, then I will. Though I--'

'There now, that's all we want,' interposed the old lady. 'That's very
good of you.'

By the first post in the morning arrived a letter addressed to 'Miss
Trent,' bearing the Eastbourne post-mark. Lydia for a moment had a
great fear, but, when she had torn the envelope open, the first lines
put her at rest. It was Mrs. Ormonde who wrote, and in words which made
Lydia feel very happy. With the exception of a line once or twice from
Mary Bower, she had never received a letter in her life; she was very
proud of the honour. Gilbert had just come home for breakfast, and all
rejoiced over the news of Thyrza.

It was hard for Lydia to sit through her morning at the workroom.
Thyrza was to be at home by twelve o'clock. As soon as the dinner-hour
struck, Lydia flung her work aside, and was in Walnut Tree Walk in less
time than it had ever before taken her. Instinct told her that the
child would be waiting upstairs alone, and not in the Grails' room. She
flew up. Thyrza rose from a chair and met her.

Not, however, with the outburst of childish rapture which Lydia had
anticipated. Their parts were reversed. When the elder sister sprang
forward, breathless with her haste, unable to utter anything but broken
terms of endearment, Thyrza folded her in her arms, and, without a
spoken word, kissed her with grave tenderness. Her cheeks had the most
unwonted colour; her ey