blue china lozenges, on which were painted the giant branches of
lilies-of-the-valley which gave the villa its inappropriate name!

The chocolate-coloured row of shutters were now closed to shut out the
heat, for the sun beat down pitilessly on the little house, and the whole
place had a curiously deserted, unlived-in appearance.

Sylvia secretly wondered how the Wachners could bear to leave the garden,
which might have been made so pretty with a little care, in such a state
of neglect and untidiness. Even the path leading up to the side of the
house, where jutted out a mean-looking door, was covered with weeds.

But Madame Wachner was evidently very pleased with her temporary home,
and quite satisfied with its surroundings.

"It is a pretty 'ouse, is it not?" she asked in English, and smiling
broadly. "And only one thousand francs, furnished, for the 'ole season!"

Sylvia quickly made a mental calculation. Forty pounds? Yes, she supposed
that was very cheap--for Lacville.

"We come in May, and we may stay till October," said Madame Wachner,
still speaking in a satisfied tone. "I made a bargain with a woman from
the town. She comes each morning, cooks what I want, and does the
'ousework. Often we 'ave our dejeuner out and dine at 'ome, or we dine
close to the Casino--just as we choose. Food is so dear in France, it
makes little difference whether we stay at 'ome or not for meals."

They were now close to the chocolate-coloured door of the Chalet, and
Madame Wachner, to Sylvia Bailey's surprise and amusement, lifted a
corner of the shabby outside mat, and took from under it a key. With
it she opened the door. "Walk in," she said familiarly, "and welcome,
Madame, to my 'ome!"

Sylvia found herself in a bare little hall, so bare indeed that there was
not even a hat and umbrella stand there.

Her hostess walked past her and opened a door which gave into a darkened
room.

"This is our dining-room," she said proudly. "Walk in, Madame. It is 'ere
we had better 'ave tea, perhaps."

Sylvia followed her. How dark, and how very hot it was in here! She could
see absolutely nothing for some moments, for she was blinded by the
sudden change from the bright light of the hall to the dim twilight of
the closely-shuttered room.

Then gradually she began to see everything--or rather the little there
was to be seen--and she felt surprised, and a little disappointed.

The dining-room was more than plainly furnished; it was pos