it
you to nothing, of course--she will, I know, be at home all this
morning."

"Dear, dear!" said Mr. Cardew. "How very provoking!"

"What do you mean, Cyril?"

"Nothing, nothing, of course, Lucia. But if, as you say, the school is
so popular, there will be no vacancies, for I think some one told me
that Mrs. Ward only took a limited number of pupils."

"There are two vacancies at the present moment," said Lady Lysle in
her calm voice, "although they are likely to be filled up immediately,
for Mrs. Ward has had many applications; but then she is exceedingly
particular, and will only take girls of high birth and of very
distinguished character."

"Doubtless she has filled up the vacancies by this morning," said Mr.
Cardew, rising with some alacrity. "Well, thank you, Lucia. As I am in
town--came up on business you know--I may as well just have a look at
Aylmer House and Mrs. Ward. It will satisfy my dear wife."

"Why, surely you don't for a minute really intend to send the girls
there?" said Lady Lysle with a superior smile.

"I cannot tell what I may do. When a man is distracted, and when a
valuable daily governess breaks down, and--and--don't question me too
closely, Lucia, and keep our little interview to yourself. As I have
just said, nothing will probably come of this; but I will go and see
the lady just to satisfy myself."

"Aneta will be delighted if you do send the girls to Aylmer House,"
was Lady Lysle's last word.

She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Cardew found himself turning rather
red. He left her, called a hansom, and got into it.

"Of course the vacancies will be filled up," he said to himself as he
was driving in the direction of South Kensington. He further thought,
"Although that good Mrs. Ward is remaining for such an unconscionable
time in town, she will very probably be out this morning. If she is
out that puts an end to everything; but even if she is in, she must
ave filled up her vacancies. Then I shall be able to return to the
Manor with a quiet mind. I'll have done my best, and the thing will be
taken out of my hands. Dear little Merry! I didn't like that
discontent on her sweet face. Ah, well, she can't guess what school is
like. It's not home; but I suppose the educational advantages would be
greater, and a man must sacrifice himself for his children. Odd what
that queer little Miss Howland told me last night: that I was
approaching a deed of self-sacrifice. She's a queer girl, but