ttle thing to feel choky about," she had said with a shaky
laugh.

Presently she had left the room. A few moments later Doctor Hilary had
also taken his leave. Trix and the Duchessa had been left alone. Suddenly
the Duchessa had looked across at Trix.

"What made you do it?" she had asked.

Trix understood the question, and the colour had rushed to her face.

"What made you do it?" the Duchessa had repeated.

"For you," Trix had replied in a very small voice.

"You guessed?" the Duchessa had asked quietly.

Trix nodded. It _had_ been largely guesswork. There was no need, at the
moment at all events, to speak of Miss Tibbutt's share in the matter.
That was for Tibby herself to do if she wished.

The Duchessa had got up from her chair. She had gone quietly over to Trix
and kissed her. Then she, too, had left the room.

Trix stared thoughtfully into the fire. Its light was playing on the
silver-backed brushes on her dressing-table, gleaming on the edges of
gilt frames, and throwing her shadow big and dancing on the wall behind
her. The curtains were undrawn, and without the trees stood ghostly and
bare against the pale grey sky. There was the dead silence in the
atmosphere which tells of frost.

It was just that,--the oddness of little things, and their immense
importance in life, and simply because of the influence they have on the
human soul. It was this that made the fact of Nicholas Danver giving a
tea-party of such extraordinary importance, though, viewed apart from its
meaning, it was the most trivial and commonplace thing in the world.

Trix got up from her chair, and went over to the window.

Not a twig of the bare trees was stirring. The earth lay quiet in the
grip of the frost king; a faint pink light still lingered in the western
sky. She looked at the rustic seat and the table beneath the lime trees.
How amazingly long ago the day seemed when she had sat there with Pia,
and heard the little tale of wounded pride. How amazingly long ago that
very morning seemed, when she had seen the sunlight flood her window-pane
with ruby jewels. Even her interview with Father Dormer seemed to belong
to another life. It had been another Trix, and not she herself who had
propounded her difficulty to him, a difficulty so astoundingly simple of
solution.

She heaved a little sigh of intense satisfaction, and then she caught
sight of a figure crossing the grass.

The Duchessa had come out of the house and was going