e was saying or doing, I'm sure. She was ashamed, I think
after you left."

Billy raised a quick hand of protest.

"Don't, please don't, Mrs. Greggory," she begged.

"But it was our fault that you came. We _asked_ you to come--through Mr.
Harlow," rejoined the other, hurriedly. "And Mr. Henshaw--was that his
name?--was so kind in every way. I'm glad of this chance to tell you how
much we really did appreciate it--and _your_ offer, too, which we could
not, of course, accept," she finished, the bright color flooding her
delicate face.

Again Billy raised a protesting hand; but the little woman in the
opposite chair hurried on. There was still more, evidently, that she
wished to say.

"I hope Mr. Henshaw did not feel too disappointed--about the Lowestoft.
We didn't want to let it go if we could help it; and we hope now to keep
it."

"Of course," murmured Billy, sympathetically.

"My daughter knew, you see, how much I have always thought of it, and
she was determined that I should not give it up. She said I should
have that much left, anyway. You see--my daughter is very unreconciled,
still, to things as they are; and no wonder, perhaps. They are so
different--from what they were!" Her voice broke a little.

"Of course," said Billy again, and this time the words were tinged with
impatient indignation. "If only there were something one could do to
help!"

"Thank you, my dear, but there isn't--indeed there isn't," rejoined
the other, quickly; and Billy, looking into the proudly lifted face,
realized suddenly that daughter Alice had perhaps inherited some traits
from mother. "We shall get along very well, I am sure. My daughter
has still another pupil. She will be home soon to tell you herself,
perhaps."

Billy rose with a haste so marked it was almost impolite, as she
murmured:

"Will she? I'm afraid, though, that I sha'n't see her, after all, for I
must go. And may I leave these, please?" she added, hurriedly unpinning
the bunch of white carnations from her coat. "It seems a pity to let
them wilt, when you can put them in water right here." Her studiously
casual voice gave no hint that those particular pinks had been bought
less than half an hour before of a Park Street florist so that Mrs.
Greggory _might_ put them in water--right there.

"Oh, oh, how lovely!" breathed Mrs. Greggory, her face deep in the
feathery bed of sweetness. Before she could half say "Thank you,"
however? she found herself alone.