those they saw
floating below the surface of her clear vague eyes.

It was noticeable to Mrs. Ansell, if not to the others, that one of
these unexpressed wishes was the desire to see her stepmother. Cicely no
longer asked for Justine; but something in her silence, or in the
gesture with which she gently put from her other offers of diversion and
companionship, suddenly struck Mrs. Ansell as more poignant than speech.

"What is it the child wants?" she asked the governess, in the course of
one of their whispered consultations; and the governess, after a
moment's hesitation, replied: "She said something about a letter she
wrote to Mrs. Amherst just before she was taken ill--about having had no
answer, I think."

"Ah--she writes to Mrs. Amherst, does she?"

The governess, evidently aware that she trod on delicate ground, tried
at once to defend herself and her pupil.

"It was my fault, perhaps. I suggested once that her little compositions
should take the form of letters--it usually interests a child more--and
she asked if they might be written to Mrs. Amherst."

"Your fault? Why should not the child write to her step-mother?" Mrs.
Ansell rejoined with studied surprise; and on the other's murmuring: "Of
course--of course----" she added haughtily: "I trust the letters were
sent?"

The governess floundered. "I couldn't say--but perhaps the nurse...."

* * * * *

That evening Cicely was less well. There was a slight return of fever,
and the doctor, hastily summoned, hinted at the possibility of too much
excitement in the sick-room.

"Excitement? There has been no excitement," Mr. Langhope protested,
quivering with the sudden renewal of fear.

"No? The child seemed nervous, uneasy. It's hard to say why, because she
is unusually reserved for her age."

The medical man took his departure, and Mr. Langhope and Mrs. Ansell
faced each other in the disarray produced by a call to arms when all
has seemed at peace.

"I shall lose her--I shall lose her!" the grandfather broke out, sinking
into his chair with a groan.

Mrs. Ansell, gathering up her furs for departure, turned on him abruptly
from the threshold.

"It's stupid, what you're doing--stupid!" she exclaimed with unwonted
vehemence.

He raised his head with a startled look. "What do you mean--what I'm
doing?"

"The child misses Justine. You ought to send for her."

Mr. Langhope's hands dropped to the arms of his chair, and