gaie ce soir_," said
Louise.

"Oh, not particularly," said Gwen; "only my hair won't go right; it's a
beast, and refuses," and she laughed again.

When she was Mrs. Middleton she would have a maid of her own, not a
French maid. They were a nuisance, and looked shabby. Yes, she dared
think of being engaged and of being married. It wasn't a dream: it was
all real. She would buy a dog, a small little thing, and she would tie
its front hair with a big orange bow and carry it about in her arms
everywhere. It would be lovely to be dressed in a filmy tea-gown with
the dog in her arms, and she would rise to meet callers and say, "I'm so
sorry--the Warden isn't at home; but you know how busy he is," etc.,
etc., and the men who called would pull the dog's ears and say "Lucky
beggar!" and she would scold them for hurting her darling, darling pet,
and she would sit in the best place in the Chapel, wearing the most
cunning hats, and she would appear not to see that she was being
admired.

In this land of fairy dreams the Warden hovered near as a vague shadowy
presence: he was there, but only as a name is over a shop window,
something that marks its identity but has little to do with the delights
to be bought within.

And why shouldn't she imagine all this? There was the letter to be given
to the Warden--that must be done first. She must think that over.
Louise's presence suggested a plan. Suppose the Warden came home so late
that she didn't see him? She would write a tiny note and put her
mother's letter within it, and send it down to the library by Louise.
That would be far easier than speaking to him. So much easier did it
seem to Gwen, that she determined to go to bed very early, so that she
should escape meeting the Warden.

And what should she write in her little note?

How exciting the world was; how funny it was going down into the
drawing-room and meeting Lady Dashwood and Mrs. Dashwood, both looking
so innocent, knowing nothing of the great secret! How funny it was going
down to the great solemn dining-room, entered by its double doors--her
dining-room--and sitting at table, thinking all the time that the whole
house really belonged to her, and that she would in future sit in Lady
Dashwood's chair! How deliciously exciting, indeed! All the plate and
glass on the table was really hers. Old Robinson and young Robinson were
really her servants. What a shock for Lady Dashwood when she found out!
Gwen's eyes were lumino