to arbitrate between you every day in the
week."

Perhaps I was growing suspicious of every one, but it seemed to me that
Gertrude's gaiety was forced and artificial. I watched her covertly
during the rest of the drive, and I did not like the two spots of
crimson in her pale cheeks. But I said nothing more about sending her
to Scotland: I knew she would not go.

CHAPTER XXV

A VISIT FROM LOUISE

That day was destined to be an eventful one, for when I entered the
house and found Eliza ensconced in the upper hall on a chair, with Mary
Anne doing her best to stifle her with household ammonia, and Liddy
rubbing her wrists--whatever good that is supposed to do--I knew that
the ghost had been walking again, and this time in daylight.

Eliza was in a frenzy of fear. She clutched at my sleeve when I went
close to her, and refused to let go until she had told her story.
Coming just after the fire, the household was demoralized, and it was
no surprise to me to find Alex and the under-gardener struggling
down-stairs with a heavy trunk between them.

"I didn't want to do it, Miss Innes," Alex said. "But she was so
excited, I was afraid she would do as she said--drag it down herself,
and scratch the staircase."

I was trying to get my bonnet off and to keep the maids quiet at the
same time. "Now, Eliza, when you have washed your face and stopped
bawling," I said, "come into my sitting-room and tell me what has
happened."

Liddy put away my things without speaking. The very set of her
shoulders expressed disapproval.

"Well," I said, when the silence became uncomfortable, "things seem to
be warming up."

Silence from Liddy, and a long sigh.

"If Eliza goes, I don't know where to look for another cook." More
silence.

"Rosie is probably a good cook." Sniff.

"Liddy," I said at last, "don't dare to deny that you are having the
time of your life. You positively gloat in this excitement. You never
looked better. It's my opinion all this running around, and getting
jolted out of a rut, has stirred up that torpid liver of yours."

"It's not myself I'm thinking about," she said, goaded into speech.
"Maybe my liver was torpid, and maybe it wasn't; but I know this: I've
got some feelings left, and to see you standing at the foot of that
staircase shootin' through the door--I'll never be the same woman
again."

"Well, I'm glad of that--anything for a change," I said. And in came
Eliza, flanked by Rosie and