ood deal of sweetness about the moulding of
the mouth. But it was the eyes that held Maud's attention. They were the
eyes of a creature who has known the wild agony of fear and is not easily
reassured. Yet the face was the face of a child.

She leaned out a little further on her sill and addressed the stranger.
"Come up and speak to me!" she said very kindly. "Bunny will show you the
way."

A shy flickering smile answered her. She cast a questioning look at
Bunny.

"Yes, that's Maud--my sister," said Bunny. "Come along! This way!"

They entered the house by a French window, and Maud drew back into her
room. What was there in that childish face that appealed so tremendously
to her womanhood--wholly banishing her first involuntary sense of recoil?
She could not have said, she was only conscious of the woman in her
throbbing with a deep compassion. She stood and waited for the child's
coming with a strangely poignant expectation.

She heard Bunny's voice talking cheerily on the stairs, but his words
provoked no response. She went to the door and opened it.

Bunny was leading the way; in fact his companion seemed to be lagging
very considerably in the rear.

Maud moved out into the passage, and Bunny stood to one side with a
courteous gesture. "Mademoiselle Antoinette Larpent!" he announced.

The small figure in blue drew itself together with a certain bravado and
came forward.

Maud held out her hands. "My dear child," she said, "I expected you long
ago."

The hands she clasped were very small and cold. They did not cling to her
as she had half expected. The blue eyes flashed her a single nervous
glance and fell.

"I'm sorry I'm late, madam," said the visitor in a low, punctilious
voice.

Maud felt amused and chilled in the same moment. "Come and sit down!" she
said. "We will have some tea upstairs. Bunny, go and order it, will you?"

"With pleasure," said Bunny. "And may I return?"

She smiled at him as she passed an arm about the girl's narrow shoulders.
"Yes, you can come back when it's ready. Come in here, dear! You will
like to take off your things. How long have you been here?"

"Only five minutes," came the murmured answer; she thought it had a
deprecating sound.

"You must be tired," she said kindly. "You came from town? How is it you
are so late? Did you miss your train?"

"No, madam." Very nervously came the reply. The contrast between this and
the boyish freedom of manner on the terrace a f