returning from the drive, a
little figure, unexceptionably neat as to hair and hands and garments,
darted out from behind the window-curtains whence she had been watching
the drive up to the house.

'Mamma, dear,' she exclaimed, 'don't ring for Syme. Mayn't I help you to
take off your things for once? I do so want to ask you--you don't mind,
do you?--_have_ you been able to say anything to Lady Myrtle? I had a
feeling that you meant to speak about it the very first chance you
could.'

Mrs Mildmay looked a little agitated.

'Francie, dear,' she said, 'I haven't time to tell you about it just
now. We must hurry down to tea. But I have done _something_, and I
almost hope I have made a beginning towards more. All I can, all it
would be right for me to tell you, I will. But I scarcely think I can do
so to-day. Come to my room quite early to-morrow morning, half an hour
or so before breakfast. As soon as we have had tea just now, I have
promised to help--at least she puts it so--Lady Myrtle to write a rather
difficult letter.'

'Is it to the Harpers?' half whispered Frances.

Her mother nodded.

Frances gave a sort of skip of joy.

'Oh, mamma, how lovely!' she exclaimed. 'How clever you are! I do
believe everything's going to come right.'

'Don't be too hopeful, dear. But at least their _present_ terrible
difficulties will be a little smoothed, I trust.

And it was no use telling Frances not to be too hopeful. She seemed
almost to dance as she followed her mother down-stairs, and the
drawing-room at Robin Redbreast had rarely, if ever, heard brighter talk
and merrier laughter than went on this afternoon round the tea-table,
where Jacinth did the honours as if she were the recognised daughter of
the house.

It went perhaps somewhat against the grain with her to be told, though
in the kindest manner, that Lady Myrtle and Mrs Mildmay had some
business letters to write in the boudoir, and must not be disturbed till
post-time. But she was a sensible girl on the whole, and really glad to
see the cordial understanding between her mother and the friend who
seemed to her now by adoption almost a second mother. And she was
without the slightest suspicion that the letters in question concerned
the Harpers, of whom indeed for some time past she had almost left off
thinking at all.

'Possibly it's already something about the London appointment for papa,'
she thought. 'Lady Myrtle is always so energetic and business-like. I