ess, while Mrs. Westmore
interposed: "But, Maria, Mr. Truscomb is ill, and has sent Mr. Amherst
to say that we are not to come."

"Yes: so Gaines has just telephoned. It's most unfortunate," Mr.
Langhope grumbled. He too was already beginning to chafe at the
uncongenial exile of Hanaford, and he shared his daughter's desire to
despatch the tiresome business before them.

Mr. Tredegar had meanwhile appeared, and when Amherst had been named to
him, and had received his Olympian nod, Bessy anxiously imparted her
difficulty.

"But how ill is Mr. Truscomb? Do you think he can take us over the mills
tomorrow?" she appealed to Amherst.

"I'm afraid not; I am sure he can't. He has a touch of bronchitis."

This announcement was met by a general outcry, in which sympathy for the
manager was not the predominating note. Mrs. Ansell saved the situation
by breathing feelingly: "Poor man!" and after a decent echo of the
phrase, and a doubtful glance at her father, Mrs. Westmore said: "If
it's bronchitis he may be ill for days, and what in the world are we to
do?"

"Pack up and come back later," suggested Mr. Langhope briskly; but while
Bessy sighed "Oh, that dreadful journey!" Mr. Tredegar interposed with
authority: "One moment, Langhope, please. Mr. Amherst, is Mrs. Westmore
expected at the mills?"

"Yes, I believe they know she is coming."

"Then I think, my dear, that to go back to New York without showing
yourself would, under the circumstances, be--er--an error in judgment."

"Good Lord, Tredegar, you don't expect to keep us kicking our heels here
for days?" her father ejaculated.

"I can certainly not afford to employ mine in that manner for even a
fraction of a day," rejoined the lawyer, always acutely resentful of the
suggestion that he had a disengaged moment; "but meanwhile----"

"Father," Bessy interposed, with an eagerly flushing cheek, "don't you
see that the only thing for us to do is to go over the mills now--at
once--with Mr. Amherst?"

Mr. Langhope stared: he was always adventurously ready to unmake plans,
but it flustered him to be called on to remake them. "Eh--what? Now--at
once? But Gaines was to have gone with us, and how on earth are we to
get at him? He telephoned me that, as the visit was given up, he should
ride out to his farm."

"Oh, never mind--or, at least, all the better!" his daughter urged. "We
can see the mills just as well without him; and we shall get on so much
more quickly."

"W