took off her spectacles, and polished them slowly.

"And what is to be done, Trix dear?"

Trix looked thoughtful.

"I really don't know just at the moment. You see, though we are pretty
certain, we are not quite certain. I know I thought last August that Pia
was in love with someone, and now you say you are certain it is this man,
and of course, as you say--" Trix hesitated a moment, feeling slightly
hypocritical,--"it does seem odd when he is only a gardener, and one
wonders how she could have met him, and all that. But, you know, you are
not _quite_ certain that you are right; or, even supposing that you are,
that Pia will want any interference on our part. We must just wait a day
or two and think matters over."

Miss Tibbutt sighed.

"But you _do_ think I was right to let you know?" she asked.

And a seventh time Trix replied with careful deliberation,

"Yes, Tibby angel, you were quite right."

"You see," said Miss Tibbutt, "I thought--" And she related exactly what
she had thought, all over again.

Trix listened exceedingly patiently. She did not even know she was being
patient. She only knew the enormous relief it was to Miss Tibbutt to
repeat herself. With each repetition the thought which had choked her
mind, so to speak, for the last five days, was further cleared from her
brain. It was quite possible that Miss Tibbutt might sleep a very great
deal better that night than she had done lately.

At last she stopped speaking, and looked towards the clock.

"My dear, I had no idea it was so late. You must be tired after your
journey, and here have I been thinking only of myself again, and of my
own anxiety, and not of you at all. I am not going to keep you up a
moment longer. And if I am late for breakfast, please tell Pia I have
gone to Mass. The walk won't hurt me, and telling our dear Lord all about
it will be the best way to help Pia. So good night, dear. And you are
really not looking very tired in spite of your journey, and my having
kept you up so late."

Trix went with her to the door, and then returned to her chair by the
fire. She was not in the least sleepy, and bed would do quite well enough
later. Just now she wanted to think. There were two distinct trends of
thought in which she wished to indulge; the one certainly contained cause
for a little anxiety, the other was quite extraordinarily delicious. She
must take the anxious trend first.

She had been considering matters exceedingly earn