asters her.

"I think I have got a cold," she falters; "my eyes water so, and I have
a little husk here when I speak."

But Giddy knows it is the coldness of desolation that brings the
raindrops to shine on Eleanor's lashes.

"Do put in a few dainty gowns, dearest," she implores. "It would be
such fun to show them off and astonish the natives. Say that hat from
'Louise,' in case you tea with the vicar's spouse, of whom I have often
heard."

Eleanor is too weary to object, and lets Giddy order Sarah hither and
thither till the room is in a litter and her head in a whirl.

"Go and fetch me Mrs. Roche's Roumanian jacket, the one from Liberty,"
says Giddy to Sarah. "I want to borrow it as a pattern. I am sure
that nice little dressmaker at Twickenham could make me one exactly
like it," turning to Eleanor, as Sarah quits the room. "You don't
mind, dear?"

"Oh, no."

"Did I tell you I met Lady MacDonald yesterday, and she actually asked
after you? I was quite surprised. She is in great trouble, poor
thing, having lost her favourite maid--a regular right hand in the
household. The woman had a very good figure, and has gone to the
Empire, and gets L4 a week for standing in the front row of a ballet or
chorus or something. Lady MacDonald feels sure she must have been in
the trade before she entered her service. She gets that excellent pay
because she just matches another girl, like a horse, you know. It must
be vastly more entertaining than fastening Lady MacDonald's back hooks.
The worst of it is she _will_ tell all the other servants about it, and
make them envious. The scullery maid, who is short and broad, and
stout, is fired to go, and dreams of nothing else."

"I wonder the beautiful Lady MacDonald has time to trouble about the
dreams of a menial," says Eleanor, with the touch of sarcasm that
always accompanies any mention of Giddy's friend.

Sarah returns, and the subject drops.

"Is it not a pity Philip is dreadfully busy this week, or he was to
have come with me to-day," continues Eleanor. "I doubt now if he will
be able to get to Copthorne at all."

"How like a husband to be busy when you want him. I am sure you are
much too young and pretty to travel alone."

"Shall we leave Sarah to finish the packing, and come down? I must
have an early lunch."

Giddy follows her to the dining-room.

"I saw Carol Quinton yesterday," she says. "I told him you were going
away, but was true to my word