hat he was saying to her. "'Er ladyship's at 'er
country 'ome and the 'ouse closed."

Although dazed and baffled, Cassandra betrayed no sign of the tumult
within, and the little old man stood before her hesitating, his
curiosity piqued into a determination to discover her business and
identity. Her gravity and silence gave her a poise and dignity that
allayed suspicion, but he and his old wife liked diversion, and a spice
of gossip lightened the monotony of their lives, so he waited, then
coughed behind his hand.

"Yes, 'er ladyship and Lady Laura are at their country 'ome now, ma'm.
Maybe you came to see the 'ouse, ma'm?"

"No, it was not the house--it was--" Again she waited, not knowing how
to introduce her husband's name.

A mystery! A visitor at this hour, and seemingly a lady, yet with a baby
in her arms, and alone, and not to see the house. Again he coughed
behind his hand.

"A many do come to see the 'ouse, ma'm, with a permit from 'is lordship,
ma'm. 'E's not 'ere now, but strangers are halways welcome--to the
gallery, ma'm."

"Yes, I'm a stranger." She caught at the word. Seized by an inward
terror of the small eyes fixed curiously on her, she intuitively shrank
from betraying her identity, and the old servant had told her what she
needed to know. Of course her husband was "his lordship," over here. "I
am from America, and I would like to see the gallery." She must do so to
give a pretext for having come to visit an empty house. David must not
be compromised before the old servant, but a great lump filled her
throat, and tears were burning unshed beneath her eyes.

For all of the warm August sun shining without, a chill struck to her
bones as they passed through the vast, closed rooms. She held her now
sleeping baby close to her breast as she followed the old man about from
picture to picture.

"Yes, a many do come 'ere--especially hartists--to see this gallery.
They say as 'ow 'is lordship wouldn't take a thousand pounds for this
one, ma'm. We'll let in a little more light. A Vandyke--and worth it's
weight in gold."

Cassandra watched him cross the floor, his short bow legs reflected
grotesquely in its shining surface as he walked, then turned and gazed
again at the life-size, half-length portrait of a young man with sunny
hair like David's and warm brown eyes.

"There, you see, it's more than a Vandyke to the family, ma'm, for it's
a hancestor, and my wife says it's as like as two peas to 'is yo