into a quaint little square room, where
the table was laid for lunch. June talked away all the time.

"There's another member of the party coming down to-morrow," she said.
"No; a man this time--Micky Mellowes! You remember him? Yes; I thought
you would." She flushed a little. "He's going to bring his car down
and take us all out for rides; so we're in for a good time."

"I remember Mr. Mellowes quite well," Miss Dearling said. When she was
alone with Esther for a moment she whispered to her--

"We all hoped June meant to marry him, you know, my dear. Perhaps she
has changed her mind, as she is allowing him to come down. Such a very
charming man--have you seen him?--and so rich."

"Yes, I've seen him," Esther said. "He is nice--very!"

"It would be the dream of my life fulfilled if I could see June
married to him," the old lady went on. "June wants a firm hand. She is
wonderfully high-spirited and clever, you know, but I always feel that
she would be so much happier with some one to look after her, and he
is just the man to take care of a woman."

"Yes," said Esther.

She felt Miss Dearling glance at her hands.

"Are you--are you engaged to be married?" she asked, after a moment.
"Please forgive my curiosity, but I am always so interested in young
people's love-affairs...."

Esther coloured.

"Yes, I am engaged," she said. "But he is away just now--abroad. I
hope we shall be married as soon as he comes home again."

Miss Dearling said that she hoped so, too; later, when she got a
moment alone with June she asked interestedly about the man to whom
Esther was engaged.

"I do hope he is nice," she said anxiously. "Such a very charming
girl! such a sweet-looking girl! Is he nice, my dear?"

June crossed the room and shut the door; then she turned round with a
little grimace.

"He's a pig!" she said.

Miss Dearling screamed.

"Oh, my dear!"

"He is," June maintained stoutly. "She doesn't think so, of course,
but he is, all the same." She broke off as Esther came back.

* * * * *

Esther woke in the morning with a pleasurable sense of something going
to happen. She lay still for a moment looking round her at the heavy,
old fashioned furniture and flowered chintz curtains.

Miss Dearling's house was essentially Early Victorian, from its wool
mats and stuffed birds in the sitting-room to the high four-posted
bedsteads and faded Brussels carpets.

But there w