did know, and after awhile Dicky Browne had come and Miss
Maliphant and the Brabazons and some others with whom Joyce was on
friendly terms, but even though Lady Baltimore had made rather a point
of the girls being with her, Joyce had gone to her but sparingly, and
always in fear and trembling. It was so impossible to know who might not
have arrived last night, or was going to arrive this night!

Besides, Barbara and Freddy were so saddened, so upset by the late death
and its consequences, that it seemed unkind even to pretend to enjoy
oneself. Joyce grasped at this excuse to say "no" very often to Lady
Baltimore's kindly longings to have her with her. That, up to this,
neither Dysart nor Beauclerk had come to the Court, had been a comfort
to her; but that they might come at any moment kept her watchful and
uneasy. Indeed, only yesterday she had heard from Lady Baltimore that
both were expected during the ensuing week.

That news leaves her rather unstrung and nervous to-day. After luncheon,
having successfully eluded Tommy, the lynx-eyed, she decides upon going
for a long walk, with a view to working off the depression to which she
has become prey. This is how she happens to be out of the way when the
letter comes for Barbara that changes altogether the tenor of their
lives.

The afternoon post brings it. The delicious spring day has worn itself
almost to a close when Monkton, entering his wife's room, where she is
busy at a sewing machine altering a frock for Mabel, drops a letter over
her shoulder into her lap.

"What a queer looking letter," says she, staring in amazement at the big
official blue envelope.

"Ah--ha, I thought it would make you shiver," says he, lounging over to
the fire, and nestling his back comfortably against the mantle-piece.
"What have you been up to I should like to know. No wonder you are
turning a lively purple."

"But what can it be?" says she.

"That's just it," says he teazingly. "I hope they aren't going to arrest
you, that's all. Five years' penal servitude is not a thing to hanker
after."

Mrs. Monkton, however, is not listening to this tirade. She has broken
open the envelope and is now scanning hurriedly the contents of the
important-looking document within. There is a pause--a lengthened one.
Presently Barbara rises from her seat, mechanically, as it were, always
with her eyes fixed on the letter in her hand. She has grown a little
pale--a little puzzled frown is contracti