r, and thought more of her than she dreamed. It
informed her that another member of the staff had returned from his
holiday, and if she pleased she could be exempted from writing for a
fortnight. As usual Mr. Bircham "begged to remain hers faithfully."

She hardly knew whether to regard this as a relief or as a punishment.
With a sigh she opened a second letter; it was from Charles Osmond,
in reply to a despairing note which she had sent off just before her
Saturday interview with Mr. Fane-Smith.

It was one of his short, characteristic letters.

"Dear Erica, 'It all comes in the day's work,' as the man said when the
lion ate him! You should have a letter, but I'm up to the eyes in
parish maters. All I can say is pray for that charity which covers the
multitude of sins, and then I think you'll find the Greyshot folk become
more bearable. So you have met Donovan at last. I am right glad! Your
father and I had a long walk together yesterday; he seems very well.
Yours ever, C. O."

This made her smile, and she opened a third letter which ran as follows:

"My dear Miss Raeburn, I should have called on you last Saturday, but
was not well enough to come in to Greyshot. My husband told me all about
your help and your kindness to our Waif. I know you will be glad to hear
that he is going on well; he is much more to us all than an ordinary
favorite, some day you shall hear his story. I am writing now to ask,
sans ceremonie, if you will come and spend a few days with us. It will
be a great pleasure to us if you will say yes. My husband will be in
Greyshot on Monday afternoon, and will call for your answer; please come
if you can. Yours very sincerely, Gladys Farrant."

Erica showed this letter to her aunt, and of course there was nothing to
prevent her going; indeed, Mrs. Fane-Smith was really rather relieved,
for she thought a few days' absence might make things more comfortable
for Erica, and, besides, Rose's illness made the days dull for her.

It was about four o'clock when Donovan Farrant arrived. Erica felt as
though she were meeting an old friend when she went into the drawing
room, and found him standing on the hearth rug.

"You have had my wife's note?" he asked, taking her hand.

"Yes," she replied.

"And you will come?"

"If you will have me."

"That's right; we had set our hearts on it. You are looking very tired.
I hope Saturday did not upset you?"

"No," said Erica. "But there have been a good many wo