troubles away to-night?"

"No," said her companion; "it's distinctly natural--just what one would
have expected. You wrote the man in Canada soon after you'd seen the
specialist, and his answer was bound to arrive in the next few days."

"But I certainly didn't write the folks at the Grange."

Winifred's eyes twinkled. "As it happens, I did, two days ago. I
ventured to point out their duty to them, and they were rather nice
about it in another letter."

Agatha stretched herself out in the low chair with a little sigh of
content. "Well," she said, "it probably wouldn't have the least effect
if I scolded you. I believe I'm horribly worn out, Winny, and it will
be a relief unspeakable to get away. If I can arrange to give up those
pupils I'll go to-morrow."

Winifred made no answer, and kneeling with one elbow resting on the arm
of her companion's chair gazed straight in front of her. They were
both of them very weary of the long grim struggle, and now a change was
close at hand.

CHAPTER V.

THE OLD COUNTRY.

It was a still, clear evening of spring when Wyllard, unstrapping the
ruchsack from his shoulders, sat down beside a frothing stream in a
dale of Northern England. On arriving in London a week or two earlier
he had found a letter from Mrs. Hastings, who was then in Paris,
awaiting him, in which she stated that she could not at the moment say
when she would go home again, but that she expected to advise him
shortly. After answering it he started North, and, obtaining Agatha's
address from Miss Rawlinson, went on again to a certain little town
which stands encircled by towering fells beside a lake in the North
Country.

He had, however, already recognised that his mission was rather a
delicate one, and he decided that it would be advisable to wait until
he heard from Mrs. Hastings before calling upon Miss Ismay. There then
remained the question, what to do with the next few days. A
conversation with some pedestrian tourists whom he met at his hotel,
and a glance at a map of the hill-tracks decided him, and remembering
that he had on several occasions kept the trail in Canada for close on
forty miles on end, he bought a Swiss pattern ruchsack, and set out on
foot through the fells.

Incidentally, he saw such scenery as gave him a new conception of the
Old Country, and nearly broke the hearts of his new friends the
tourists, who volunteered to show him the way over what they evidently
cons