into a certain reserve, but
her deep, dark eyes were eloquent, and always would be. Hepsey wondered
at the opaque whiteness of her skin and the baffling arrangement of her
hair. The young women of the village had rosy cheeks, but Miss Thorne's
face was colourless, except for her lips.

It was very strange, Hepsey thought, for Miss Hathaway to sail before
her niece came, if, indeed, Miss Thorne was her niece. There was a
mystery in the house on the hilltop, which she had tried in vain to
fathom. Foreign letters came frequently, no two of them from the same
person, and the lamp in the attic window had burned steadily every night
for five years. Otherwise, everything was explainable and sane.

Still, Miss Thorne did not seem even remotely related to her aunt, and
Hepsey had her doubts. Moreover, the guest had an uncanny gift which
amounted to second sight. How did she know that all of Hepsey's books
had yellow covers? Miss Hathaway could not have told her in the letter,
for the mistress was not awire of her maid's literary tendencies.

It was half past seven, but no sound came from upstairs. She replenished
the fire and resumed meditation. Whatever Miss Thorne might prove to be,
she was decidedly interesting. It wis pleasant to watch her, to feel the
subtle refinement of all her belongings, and to wonder what was going to
happen next. Perhaps Miss Thorne would take her back to the city, as
her maid, when Miss Hathaway came home, for, in the books, such things
frequently happened. Would she go? Hepsey was trying to decide, when
there was a light, rapid step on the stairs, a moment's hesitation in
the hall, and Miss Thorne came into the dining-room.

"Good morning, Hepsey," she said, cheerily; "am I late?"

"Yes'm. It's goin' on eight, and Miss Hathaway allers has breakfast at
half past six."

"How ghastly," Ruth thought. "I should have told you," she said, "I will
have mine at eight."

"Yes'm," replied Hepsey, apparently unmoved. "What time do you want
dinner?"

"At six o'clock--luncheon at half past one."

Hepsey was puzzled, but in a few moments she understood that dinner was
to be served at night and supper at midday. Breakfast had already been
moved forward an hour and a half, and stranger things might happen at
any minute.

Ruth had several other reforms in mind, but deemed it best to wait.
After breakfast, she remembered the lamp in the window and went up to
put it out.

It was still burning when she re