of
Aneta's headache. She, therefore, did not ask about it.

"I pity people who have headaches," said Aneta. "I suffer from them
very badly myself. Nothing cures me but perfect rest. I was lying down
all the afternoon. Merry came to see me, and told me that you were
also prostrated with headache. I was sorry for you."

"Oh, thank you so much!" said Maggie. "Mine is quite gone; is yours?"

"Yes, thank you."

Aneta sat quiet and very still. When her face was in repose she never
moved her body. There was an absolute sense of rest about her which
was refreshing to those who really knew her well. But Maggie hated it.
She wanted to leave her; she wanted to go and talk to Merry, who was
playing a solitary game of patience in a distant part of the
drawing-room; she wanted to do anything rather than remain by Aneta's
side.

Then Aneta looked up. "I had a letter this afternoon from my aunt,
Lady Lysle."

"Oh!" said Maggie. She could not quite understand why her heart beat
so fast, but she had undoubtedly a premonition of some sort of trouble
ahead.

"Aunt Lucia is staying with the Cardews," continued Aneta.

"Is she?" said Maggie. "Oh, that sweet and beautiful place!" she
continued.

"Yes," said Aneta, "Meredith Manor will always be lovely. There is no
season of the year when it is not, in my opinion, more charming than
any other place I know."

"Is your aunt going to stay there long?" asked Maggie, who felt that
she need not say anything further with regard to the delights of
Meredith Manor just now.

"I cannot tell you," replied Aneta. "She mentioned something rather
curious. It is connected with you."

"With poor little me?" said Maggie.

"With you," said Aneta. "You remember telling me that your stepfather
is one of the Martyns of The Meadows?"

Maggie's face grew crimson, then turned pale.

"Well," said Aneta, bringing out her words with great calmness, "it
turns out to be a mistake. Your stepfather is no relation whatever to
our friends the Martyns. Aunt Lucia and Mrs. Cardew went to call on
them the other day, and asked the question. You made a mistake in
announcing your stepfather as being a connection of our friends."

"Did I? Perhaps so," said Maggie. "I thought he was, that's all."

"You thought wrong," said Aneta. "I felt I would mention it to you. He
may be just as well connected," she added quietly; "but he is _not_
related to the Martyns of The Meadows."

"You speak in a very disagreeable to