s last words, eye
and cheek kindling.

"Hm--" she said, under her breath--"So he has sent the telegram."

She left the window, and began to walk restlessly about the room, looking
now at the books, now at the piano. Her face hardened, and she paid no
attention to Mrs. Friend's little comments of pleasure on the room and
its contents. Presently indeed she cut brusquely across.

"I am just going down to the stables to see whether my horse has arrived.
A friend of mine bought her for me in town--and she was to be here early
this morning. I want, too, to see where they're going to put her."

"Mayn't I come too?" said Mrs. Friend, puzzled by the sudden clouding of
the girl's beautiful looks.

"Oh, no--please don't. You've got to see the housekeeper! I'll get my hat
and run down. I found out last night where the stables are. I shan't be
more than ten minutes or so."

She hurried away, leaving Mrs. Friend once more a prey to anxieties. She
recalled the threat of the night before. But no, _impossible_! After all
the kindness and the forethought! She dismissed it from her mind.

The interview with the housekeeper was an ordeal to the gentle
inexperienced woman. But her entire lack of any sort of pretension was in
itself ingratiating; and her manner had the timid charm of her character.
Mrs. Mawson, who might have bristled or sulked in stronger hands, in
order to mark her distaste for the advent of a mistress in the house she
had been long accustomed to rule, was soon melted by the docility of the
little lady, and graciously consented to see her own plans approved _en
bloc_, by one so frankly ignorant of how a country house party should be
conducted. Then it was the turn of old Fenn; a more difficult matter,
since he did genuinely want instructions, and Mrs. Friend had none to
give him. But kind looks, and sympathetic murmurs, mingled with honest
delight in the show of azaleas in the conservatory carried her through.
Old Fenn too, instead of resenting her, adopted her. She went back to the
house flushed with a little modest triumph.

Housewifely instincts revived in her. Her hands wanted to be doing. She
had ventured to ask Fenn for some flowers, and would dare to arrange them
herself if Mrs. Mawson would let her.

Then, as she re-entered the house, she came back at a bound to reality.
"If I can't keep Miss Pitstone out of mischief, I shan't be here a
month!" she thought pitifully; and how was it to be done?

She found