Betty's lips opened to emit a hoarse, inarticulate murmur. Uncle Bernard turned his eyes upon Mollie, and said coldly—

"You wish to imply that she was imitating my expressions? Indeed! It is always interesting to know in what light one appears to others. I regret that I failed to catch the likeness."

"Dear Uncle Bernard, shall we go to the drawing-room now? The children use this room to prepare their lessons. We will have coffee in the drawing-room!" cried Mrs Connor eagerly. And the elders filed across the hall, leaving poor Betty reduced to tears of misery, while the boys comforted her by jibes and jeers in true schoolboy fashion.

In the drawing-room a ghastly silence prevailed, broken by fitful efforts of conversation. Mr Farrell had asked that a cab should be ordered by nine o'clock to take him back to his hotel; but, though the time drew nearer and nearer, he still vouchsafed no explanation of the unexpected visit. Surely—surely, before going away he would say something, and not once more disappear into the mist, and let the veil of silence fall around him? The same thought was in every mind, the same wondering anticipation; but it was only when the cab was announced and Mr Farrell rose to say good-bye that he appeased their curiosity.

"I came here to-day to make the acquaintance of my nephew's daughters. I should be glad, Mary, if you would allow them to pay me a visit at the Court. I have arranged to have a lady in residence who will look after them and do what chaperonage is needful. If Monday will suit you, I should like them to arrive on that day."

It sounded more like a command than an invitation, but such as it was it thrilled the listeners with joy. To pay a visit, and above all, to visit the Court, of which they had heard so much, had been the girls' day-dream for so long that it seemed impossible that it had come at last. Ruth's mind flew at once to considerations of ways and means, and she suffered a moment of agonising suspense before Mrs Connor's eager consent put an end to anxiety.

"Oh, I shall be delighted—delighted! The girls will love it, of all things. How kind of you, dear Uncle Bernard! Ruth! Mollie! Are you not delighted to have such a treat in store?"

"Thank you, Uncle Bernard; I should love to come!" cried Ruth warmly. "Mollie and I have often said that there is nothing in the world we should enjoy more than paying a visit to the Court. It is most good of you to ask us!"

"And we will try to behave very nicely, and not bother you at all," added Mollie, her eyes dancing with happiness. "We are to come on Monday week. And will there be other people, too—other visitors, besides ourselves?"

"Probably," said Uncle Bernard curtly. "There are several important matters to be discussed, into which I cannot enter in a short interview. I am inviting you—and others—in order that we may talk them over at leisure. A carriage will meet the train arriving at four-twenty. Good- afternoon, Mary. I shall not see you again, as I leave by an early train to-morrow."

Even as he spoke, Mr Farrell made his way towards the door with an air of finality which forbade further questioning. He had waited until the last possible moment before giving his invitation, and, having obtained an acceptance, was evidently determined to take his departure without further delay. Mrs Connor escorted him to the door, her husband helped him into the cab, offered to accompany him to the hotel, was coldly snubbed for his pains, and came back into the house heaving deep sighs of relief.

"Now for my smoke!" he exclaimed, and hurried off to the study, while Mrs Connor was dragged into the drawing-room and subjected to a breathless cross-questioning.

"Matters of importance to discuss! Mother, what can he mean?"

"Other people besides ourselves! Mother, who can they be?"

"How long does he want us to stay?"

"What are we going to do about clothes?"

"That's just exactly what I'm asking myself!" cried Mrs Connor, referring with equal truthfulness to all four questions at once. "It is most awkward, not knowing how long you are expected to stay, or what sort of a party you are to meet; but, in any case, I am afraid you must have some new clothes. I will have a talk with pater, and see what can be done, and you must divide my things between you. I have a few pieces of good lace still, and one or two trinkets which will come in usefully. I am afraid we cannot manage anything new for evenings; you must make the black dresses do."

Mollie groaned dismally.

"They are so old and shabby! The sleeves look as if they had come out of the Ark. I do so long to be white and fluffy for once. Can't we squeeze out white dresses, mother? I'd do without sugar and jam for a year, if you'll advance the money. Even muslin would be better than nothing, and it would wash, and come in for summer best, and then cut up into curtains, and after that into dusters. Really, if you look at it in the right light, it would be an economy to buy them! I am sure Uncle Bernard would like to see me in white! Now don't you think he would?"

"I'll do what I can, dear—I'll do what I can! I should like you both to look as well as possible. 'Matters of importance!' ... I can't think what matters of importance Uncle Bernard can wish to discuss with children like you. And who are the other guests? And are they also included in the discussion? I don't know of any near relations he has left, except ourselves; but he was even more intimate with his wife's people than his own, and she belonged to a large family. Dear, dear! It is most awkward to be so much in the dark. I do wish he had been a little more explicit while he was about it."

"Never mind, muv; it makes it all the more exciting. We are going to meet someone, and we don't know whom; and to discuss something, and we don't know what; and to stay, we don't know how long. There's this comfort—we can easily take all our belongings, and still not be overburdened with luggage! Ten days—only ten days before we start! It sounds almost too good to be true. But how will you manage without us, dear little mother?"

"Oh, don't trouble about me, dear! I'll manage beautifully. Old Miss Carter can come in to help me if I get too tired; but, indeed, I shall be so happy to think of you two girls staying at the dear old Court that it will do me as much good as a tonic. Now I will go and talk to pater about money matters. We ought to begin preparations at once."

Mr Connor joined in the general satisfaction at the invitation which had been given to his step-daughters, and, though mildly surprised to hear that any fresh equipments would be required, took his wife's word for the need, and produced two five-pound notes from his cash-box, which she was deputed to use as she thought fit.

"If you don't need it all, you can give me back whatever is over," said the innocent male, little reckoning that three feminine heads would lie restless on their pillows that night, striving in vain to solve the problem of making ten pounds do duty for fifty.

Next morning, pencils and paper were in requisition to check mental additions, while Ruth drew up a list of usefuls, and Mollie one of fineries which seemed equally essential. At a most modest estimate it seemed possible to purchase the whole for something under thirty pounds. A painful curtailment brought it down to twenty, but by no persuasion could that sum be halved.

"Unless we play Box and Cox!" cried Mollie, in desperation. "One rain cloak, and an understanding that one of us invariably feels chilly, and stays at home on wet days. One white dress, to be worn in turn on special occasions, while the other languishes in bed with a headache. One evening cloak, ditto. Ditto gloves and sundries. It is the only way I can see out of the difficulty."

"Don't be absurd, Mollie! We shall both have to stay in bed if anything special takes place, for we can't afford any extras. I remember once asking Eleanor Drummond's advice about spending my allowance, and she said, 'Wear a shabby dress, if you must; wear a shabby hat, if you have not taste and ingenuity to trim one for yourself out of next to nothing; but never, never, never condescend to a shabby petticoat or shoes down at the heel!' I thought it splendid advice, and have always acted upon it, as far as I could. Let us buy really nice boots and slippers and petticoats before we do anything else!"

"I'll have a silk one, then, and rustle for once, if I die for it!" cried Mollie recklessly. "And the boots shall be thin, not thick, with a nice, curved sole to show off my patrician instep. If I have to content myself with usefuls, they shall be as ornamental as possible. Don't you think we might possibly squeeze out net over-skirts to wear with the black silks, sometimes, so as to make them look like two dresses instead of one?"

"Oh, my dear, I like luxuries as much as you do! It's only grim necessity which makes me prudent. The black net is really an inspiration, and if we make it up ourselves we can manage quite well, and have enough money left for gloves and ribbons, and one fresh blouse a-piece."

For the next week all was bustle and excitement. The girls paid two long shopping expeditions to town, and returned laden with interesting parcels, the contents of which were displayed to an admiring audience in the drawing-room, and then taken upstairs to Attica, which was transformed into a dressmaker's work-room, barriers being for once ignored in consideration of the importance of the occasion.

The five-pound notes became wonderfully elastic, and even after they were expended little offerings came in from friends and members of the family to swell the great sum total. One sent a pretty tie, another a belt, a third a lace handkerchief. Trix supplied a most stylish collection of pens, pencils, and indiarubbers, reposing in her very best box; and Betty, not to be outdone, rummaged among her various collections for a suitable offering. Eventually she discovered a half- emptied bottle of eau-de-Cologne, which had been presented to her the Christmas before, filled it up with water, and presented it to her sisters for mutual use, unperturbed by the fact that the transparent hue of the scent had changed to a milky white.

On the morning of the fifth day Ruth had a conviction that she was sickening with a dire disease; on the sixth, she anticipated a disabling accident; on the seventh, she waited hourly for a telegram from Uncle Bernard, retracting his invitation; on the eighth, she wanted to know what would happen if there was a cab strike in the city; and on the ninth, talked vaguely of blizzards and earthquakes. Something it seemed must happen to prevent this long-dreamed-of journey; it did not seem possible that the stars should run placidly in their courses, while Ruth and Mollie Farrell were going a-visiting with a box full of fineries!

Yet the day did break, an ordinary, grey morning, with no sign to distinguish it from another. Looking out of the window, men and women could be seen going calmly about their duties. The postman and newspaper-boy arrived at their accustomed time. No one outside the household seemed to realise that the day was big with fate.

At eleven o'clock a cab drove up to the door; the boxes were piled on the roof; and the heroines of the hour made their appearance in the doorway, immaculately trim and tidy in travelling array. The brothers and sisters were absent at school, so there was only the little mother to say adieu, and stand waving her hand until the cab had disappeared from view.

Once, she too had been young and fair, and life had stretched before her like an empty page, on which the most marvellous happenings might be enrolled. Now, she was old and harassed and poor, and there seemed little ahead but work and worry; yet she could not call life a failure.

"I have had the best thing," she said to herself, as she shut the door and re-entered the empty house—"plenty of dear ones to love, and to love me in return. God bless my two girls, and give them the same sweet gift."



CHAPTER SIX.

AT THE COURT.

The girl whose lot has been cast in narrow places, and whose youth has known few relaxations, should take heart at the thought of the future. There is a good time coming! However long be the lane, the turning must eventually be reached; and then—ah, then, what zest of delight, what whole-hearted, unqualified enjoyment!

If Ruth and Mollie Farrell had been in the habit of paying half a dozen visits a year,—if, indeed, they had even once before started off together on pleasure bent, would they have hailed every incident of the journey with the delight which they experienced to-day? Not a bit of it!

They would have grumbled at the wait on the platform, at the stoppages of the train at country stations, at the draught from the window, the banging of the door, the constant requests for tickets. They would have yawned and lolled back in their corners, and eventually shut their eyes and fallen asleep, regardless of the scenes through which they were passing.

As it was, every fresh stop was a delight. They beamed at the porter who collected their luggage, paid for return tickets with the complacence of millionaires, and thought it lucky that there were ten minutes to spare before the arrival of the train. They tried each other's weight, to the delight of the onlookers; put a penny in every available slot, and made a reckless expenditure in penny magazines. Last, and greatest luxury of all, Ruth actually ordered a tea-basket to be handed into the carriage at a half-way station; one basket to do duty for two, but still a deliberate extravagance, when refreshments had been provided from home; and oh, dear me, how delicious it was to be extravagant for once!

When the train came in, one porter dashed forward to secure window-seats in an empty carriage, another hurried up with rugs and handbags; groups of people standing upon the platform looked after the two girls with kindly glances; everybody seemed kind and interested, as though understanding the nature of their expedition, and wishing them good- speed.

They sat opposite to each other, gazing out of their respective windows, or making an affectation of reading the magazines which lay littered about the seat; but the end was always the same, their eyes met in irrepressible smiles, and they began to talk once more.

Real life was so much more interesting than romance!

"I feel so very Lucille-y!" Mollie declared "Travelling on pleasure, with a tea-basket coming to meet me! It was an inspiration of yours to order it, Ruth! I shall be grateful to you to the end of my life! Let's talk about what we shall do to-night... Let's guess who will be there, and what they will be like. The lady chaperon, now! Should you think that the presence of a chaperon implied that there would be young men in the party? I hope there are."

"So do I," assented Ruth frankly. "But I fancy that they are more likely to be old. Some nieces and nephews of Aunt Edna's, about mother's age, perhaps—middle-aged couples, with caps and spectacles. How will you feel if we are the only young people there?"

"I refuse to imagine anything so ghastly! The couples may have children, mayn't they? I imagine a charming girl who has no sisters, and who will adopt us as her dearest friends, and ask us to stay with her. I rather think she will be dark, and wear eyeglasses, and have a brother who is musical, and has a tenor voice. Then there will be another man—Sir Somebody or other, who has a big estate in the county. He will be very superior at first, and take no notice of us, but in the end he will be conquered by our modest charms and become a devoted admirer. Perhaps there may be some couples, but they will be young and festive, and the chaperon will be a dear old thing with side-ringlets, who will let us do as we like, and take our part with the old man. That sounds about the right thing, doesn't it?"

Ruth smiled happily.

"Ah, well! whoever we meet, I am going to enjoy myself. A change, a change—that's what I wanted. Everything will be different, and there's a world of refreshment in that alone. How thankful I am that Uncle Bernard asked us both, Mollie! It's half the fun to talk things over together."

She lay back in her corner, and gazed out of the window once more, smiling dreamily as a whirl of thoughts flew through her mind. What would have happened before she travelled once more past these flying landmarks? What new friendships would be formed—what experiences undergone—what matters of importance revealed?

Life seemed all to lie ahead; yet from time to time her thoughts drifted back unconsciously to Donald Maclure, and lingered on the memory. She had not seen him since the eventful afternoon, but Eleanor had conveyed his good wishes for a happy visit, and her manner showed she was in ignorance of what had occurred.

Ruth was grateful for a silence which left her friendship untouched, and her thoughts of the doctor were gentle and kindly.

"But I couldn't—I couldn't!" she said to herself excusingly. "I don't want to marry anyone yet. I just want to be young and happy, and have a good time!"

At the half-way station the tea-basket made its appearance, and the girls sat side by side taking turns at the cup, and nibbling at bread- and-butter and plum-cake like two happy children out for a holiday, which in good truth they were.

They made a pretty picture, and more than one of the passengers upon the platform cast admiring glances as they passed by. So far, the carriage had been empty, except for themselves; but, just as the train was preparing to leave the junction, a young man turned the handle of the door, threw a bag on the seat, and leapt in after it. He was on the point of seating himself in the place which Ruth had just vacated, but, seeing the scattered papers, checked himself, and took possession of the further corner, while the sisters studied him furtively from time to time.

He was tall, he was handsome, he was probably about thirty years of age, and he looked thoroughly bored and out of temper. After one casual glance at the pretty sisters, he unfolded a newspaper, and turned from page to page seeking for some item of interest. His eyes were blue, he was clean-shaven, his nose was aquiline, and his nostrils were arched, and had a trick of dilation.

"Like a high-bred horse, who wouldn't like the bridle a single bit," was Mollie's comment, as she turned back to the window; for, after all, the unknown landscape through which the train was now passing was more absorbing than the appearance of a stranger who took so little interest in herself.

She gazed and whispered, and dreamed afresh, until at last the name of a familiar station gave warning that the journey was nearing its end. In another ten minutes the train was due to reach Nosely, and in the interval there was much to be done. Ruth solemnly lifted down the aged dressing-bag, which dated from her mother's youth, and, with a furtive glance at the stranger in the corner, took out a looking-glass and carefully surveyed her hair, pulling it out here, tucking it in there, patting it into position with those deft little touches which come naturally to a girl, but which seem so mysterious to a masculine observer.

The young man in the corner glanced across the carriage with an expression of lordly amusement at the foibles of a member of the weaker sex; and there was even worse to come, for when Mollie, in her turn, had arranged her hair, a cloth brush was produced to remove the dust of travel, and two pairs of well-worn dogskin gloves were thrown into the bag, and replaced by others immaculately new.

Mollie was absolutely without embarrassment in these attentions to her toilet, but it required a little resolution on Ruth's part to ignore the stranger's presence. Only the reflection, "We will never see him again!" supported her through the critical moments during which she trained a fascinating little curl into position on her temple, conscious meantime of a steady scrutiny from behind the newspaper.

It was something of a shock to see the stranger rise from his seat a moment later, and begin making those preparations which showed that he also was approaching his destination; but, although he alighted at Nosely Station, he had disappeared from sight while the girls were still looking after their luggage, and when they took their seats in the carriage which was waiting to convey them to the Court there was no sign of him on platform or road.

"That's a comfort!" remarked Mollie thankfully. "I am glad he did not see where we were going. How superior he looked when we were prinking, Ruth! I don't like him a bit—do you?"

"Oh, I don't know—I can't think! I'm Berengaria, Mollie! I never was a poor girl travelling third-class, and changing her gloves at the last moment! I must have been a duchess in my last incarnation, for I feel so thoroughly at home in an atmosphere of luxury!" sighed Ruth, leaning back against the cushions, and glancing languidly from side to side. "Our luggage is following behind in the cart. I hope it will arrive soon, for I want to change my blouse. I suppose we shall have tea in the hall with the rest of the house-party, as they do in books, but I hope they won't be assembled when we enter. I should feel awful walking in, and knowing that they were all staring and criticising our appearance, wouldn't you?"

Mollie laughed gaily.

"Not a bit. I'd criticise, too, and shake hands high up—like this—and be pleasant and condescending. We are Uncle Bernard's nearest relations remember, and the guests of honour... Now, we are beginning to go up the hill! You remember mother said there was a long, winding hill, and at the top to the left stood the lodge gates. Don't talk! I don't want to miss a single thing."

So each girl stared steadily out of her window as the horses slowly mounted the hill path. For the first few hundred yards there were hedges on either side, and beyond them a wide, uneven landscape; then came a little village, grouped round a square "green," with all the picturesque accessories of church, ivy-covered parsonage, thatched roofs, and duck-pond, which travellers look for in a well-conducted English village. This passed, there was another climb upwards, a wider view of the valley beneath, and finally a sharp turn to the left, and a long drive leading to the greystone Court, whose beauties photographs had made familiar.

The butler threw open the door as the carriage stopped, and the travellers thrilled with excitement as they crossed the threshold. First a square vestibule, then the great hall itself, stretching the whole length of the wing, and turning to the right by the foot of the staircase.

The girls' eyes turned in a flash to the tapestry on the walls, and the wooden portraits of ancestors; but besides these historic relics there were many articles belonging to a later and more luxurious age. Carved oak tables, laden with books and magazines; chairs and lounges of every description; a fireplace brilliant with beaten copper and soft green tiles; leather screens shielding cosy corners; cabinets of china and curios.

It was even more imposing than imagination had painted it; but—there was no one there! No Uncle Bernard to speak a word of greeting; no flutter of silken skirts belonging to nice girls who had no sisters, and were dying to adopt other nice girls without delay; no scent of cigarettes smoked by interesting young men, who might have sisters or might not, but who would certainly be pleased to welcome Berengaria and Lucille!

Ruth had knitted her dark brows, and drawn herself stiffly erect; Mollie was prepared to smile in benign patronage on less important guests. It was a trifle disconcerting to see no one at all but a little, black- robed lady, who came hurriedly forward as they approached the staircase and stammered a nervous greeting.

"Miss Farrell! Miss Mary! I hope you have had a pleasant journey. I am Mrs Wolff. Mr Farrell was kind enough to ask me—yes! I hope you are not cold. Your uncle thought you would like to have tea in your own room. It will be brought up to you at once. Mr Farrell desired me to say that he wished to see you both in the library at half-past five. Shall I take you upstairs at once? We have given you one room—a very large one; but if you prefer to have two separate ones, it can easily be arranged—yes!"

The girls protested that they wished to be together, and followed their guide up the broad staircase to a room on the first story, where the curtains were already drawn, and a cosy tea-table spread before the fire. Mrs Wolff had called it large, and she might truthfully have used a more emphatic word, for what had originally been the best bedroom in the house had been, like the drawing-room beneath, enormously enlarged by the addition of a curved, mullioned window, the entire width of the floor.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine! Nine dear little windows!" counted Mollie rapturously, as the door closed behind the figure of the lady chaperon. "What a view we shall have to-morrow morning, Ruth! Sofas, armchairs, writing-tables, two long mirrors to show the set of our skirts—this is a room after my own heart! I shall have one exactly like it when I marry my duke!"

"But I didn't expect to have tea in it, all the same," Ruth objected, as she took off her hat and jacket. "The house feels very quiet and deserted. If we hadn't uncle's own word for it, I should think there was no one here except ourselves. He might have come to meet us himself! It seems so cold to leave us to strangers!"

"You will be disappointed, my dear, if you expect warmth from Uncle Bernard. My short interview taught me so much, at least. But he wants to see us at half-past five, Ruth. I'll prophesy something—he is going to talk to us about the 'important matters'! It would be just like him to explain his position before we have been an hour in the house, so that there can be no misunderstanding. I'm right—I know I am! We are on the eve of solving the mystery!"

Ruth shivered, and drew closer to the fire.

"Don't make me nervous. It will be bad enough when it comes to the point, without thinking of it beforehand!" she cried.

And it was all the easier to change the conversation, as at that moment a maid entered with a tea-tray and a plate of hot, buttered scones.

Tea after a journey is always a most enjoyable meal, and when it was over the girls made as careful a toilet as could be managed with the materials at hand, the heavier luggage not having yet made its appearance. Shortly before half-past five a tap came to the door, and a maid entered with a double request.

"I have come to show you the way to the library, miss; and if you would kindly give me your keys before you go, I will have your boxes unpacked. What dresses would you like to wear for dinner?"

The horror of that moment was never to be forgotten. Before Ruth's eyes there arose, as in a vision, the patches on the under-sleeves of her morning blouse, the faded dressing-gown, the darns, and make-shifts and pitiful little contrivances of poverty. Her cheeks flamed before the sharp eyes of the abigail, and then flamed again with scorn at her own folly.

"It is all neat and clean and tidy. I won't be ashamed of it!" she told herself angrily, as she turned to search for her keys.

But the evening-dresses! The next moment with a mingling of relief and irritation, she heard Mollie's unabashed reply—

"Oh, we have only black dresses! We will wear the net over-skirts, please!"

Just like Mollie, to wear her best clothes on the first possible occasion, instead of prudently storing them up for a special need! But it was too late to protest; already the maid was leading the way onward. The all-important interview was at hand!



CHAPTER SEVEN.

MR. FARRELL'S PLAN.

"Miss Farrell, sir!" said the maid, throwing open the door of the library.

And Ruth walked forward, followed closely by Mollie.

It was a long, narrow room, lined with book-shelves, and the solitary light from a crimson-shaded lamp on the central table gave an air of gloom after the bright illumination of the hall without. On a lounge- chair beside the table sat Bernard Farrell, looking more cadaverous than ever, with a velvet-skull-cap over his whitened locks. He did not rise as his great-nieces approached, but held out his hand in a greeting which was courteous enough, if somewhat cold.

"How do you do? I am pleased to see you. Excuse me for not having met you earlier, but I am not feeling well to-day. I trust you have received every attention since your arrival at the Court. Mrs Wolff had my instructions to look after your comfort."

"Thank you, yes; we had tea in our room—a lovely room. We are looking forward to enjoying the view from that splendid window!"

"Ah, yes; it is very fine in clear weather! Please make yourselves at home, and ask for anything that you need. The servants are good, but they are unused to visitors. Have no hesitation in keeping them up to their duties. Will you be seated? In a few minutes we can, I hope, begin the business of the hour."

He waved them towards some chairs which were ranged before his table. Four chairs! In the twinkling of an eye the girls had grasped both the number and what it implied. Two other guests at least were at present in the house, and equally interested with themselves in the coming discussion. Their advent was evidently momentarily expected, for Mr Farrell turned an impatient glance at the clock, and even as he did so the door opened once more and two young men entered the room. One was tall and dark, with an olive skin, and a curious, veiled look about his eyes, caused by the presence of short but abnormally thick black lashes. Viewed in profile the lashes entirely hid the eye, but the effect of the thick black line was, singularly enough, rather attractive than the reverse. He had a dark moustache, and his chin was square and well- developed.

His companion was—well! the girls felt that they might have guessed it before, as one of the awkward things which was bound to happen. He was the stranger of the railway carriage, the supercilious personage whom they had flattered themselves they would never see again!

Like the two girls, the new-comers had evidently not seen their host before, for they were greeted by him with practically the same phrases; and then came a general introduction.

"I must make you known to your fellow-guests—Mr Jack Melland, Mr Victor Druce—Miss Farrell, Miss Mary Farrell. Mr Melland and Mr Druce are great-nephews of my late wife. Miss Farrell and her sister are my own nephew's only children."

The two young men turned towards the girls with curious glances. Over Mr Jack Melland's face flitted an amused glance of recognition. His companion's dark eyes widened with a curious scrutiny; then the lashes dropped, and hid them from sight. Seen thus, with mouth and eyes alike veiled, the face was a mask devoid of expression; yet Mollie had a conviction that she had surprised something closely approaching disappointment in that fleeting glance. Why the sight of Ruth and herself had affected the stranger in so unpleasant a fashion it was difficult to understand; but the impression remained. Her eyes travelled upward to the face of Jack Melland, and marvelled at the contrast.

"His face betrays him, in spite of himself. His nostrils alone would give him away," she told herself, smiling. "He is cross, the other inscrutable; Ruth is frightened, and I am amused. We look like four school-children seated in a row, with Uncle Bernard as the teacher... When is the lesson to begin?"

At once, apparently; for Mr Farrell lost no time in preliminaries, but began his explanation as soon as the young men were seated.

"I have asked you to meet me here as soon as possible after your arrival, for it is better that we should understand each other from the beginning. You have thought it strange, no doubt, that, after having had no communication with your families for so many years, I should suddenly develop a desire for your company. Circumstances have, however, materially altered for me during the last few weeks by the discovery that it is necessary that my affairs should be settled without delay.

"I have, as you know, no child left to inherit, and as this place is not entailed, it is entirely in my hands to bequeath as I think fit. Until now—for reasons which you may perhaps understand—the idea of making a will has been so painful that I have continually postponed the ordeal; but my doctor, who is also my old friend, has convinced me that I must delay no longer.

"I am suffering from an affection of the heart which makes it impossible that I can live longer than a couple of years, and probably the time may be but a few months. He has urged me, therefore, to settle business affairs, so that I might spend the remainder of my days undisturbed; but to decide on a suitable heir is not an easy matter. I am, as you may have heard, a very rich man, and I hold strong, and perhaps somewhat unusual, ideas as to the qualifications which are necessary for the owner of great wealth. It is not my intention to divide the inheritance in any way, therefore it is the more important to make a right choice."

He paused for a moment, and the four young people looked up sharply. Victor Druce's eyes roved quickly from one to the other of his three companions. Jack Melland's lips closed more tightly than before. Ruth's cheeks glowed with a carmine flush. She was the nearest relation; hers was the first claim! Her heart beat with quick, sickening thuds; only Mollie looked frankly curious and unperturbed.

"As I said before," continued Mr Farrell, "we are, so far, complete strangers to each other; but I judge you all to hold equal rights to anything which I have to leave. Ruth and Mary are my nearest legal relations; but my wife's people always ranked with me as my own, and, other things being equal, I should prefer a male heir. I make no point of the name; the Court is not an estate which has descended to me from many generations of ancestors. My father bought it from the late owner, so there is no real reason why a Farrell should necessarily inherit.

"It is from one of your number, then, that I shall adopt my heir; but, in order to do so, I must have some knowledge of your respective characters and attainments. As I said before, I hold somewhat unusual views. What the world in general would probably consider the best qualification for the owner of a big estate is, in my eyes, an insuperable objection. What I look to find, others might regard as a fault. We all have our own ideas, and must act according to our lights. I wish then, in the first place, to make your acquaintance but do not be afraid that I shall make the task too unpleasant.

"For the furtherance of my plan, I should wish you to lead as full and interesting a life as may be. The Court has been shut up for years, but its doors can now be thrown open for your benefit. You are free to come and go, to invite whom you will, and no doubt the neighbourhood will be eager to meet you half-way. My own health will not permit me to arrange your amusements; but I give you the use of my house, carte blanche as regards expenses, and Mrs Wolff to play propriety—the rest you must arrange for yourselves. If each in turn took the management of affairs for a few weeks at a time, it would meet my views, as helping me to form the necessary ideas of character and tastes."

There was a simultaneous movement of surprise on the part of the listeners, and one and the same word was repeated by four pairs of lips—

"Weeks!"

Mr Farrell smiled grimly.

"You are surprised at the time implied. My invitations were intentionally vague, for I had not at the time made up my mind as to various details. I have now decided that for the proper development of my scheme three months at least will be necessary. I therefore invite you to be my guests at the Court during that period."

Again came the involuntary, simultaneous start of surprise, and Jack Melland cried hastily—

"It is impossible! I am obliged to you, sir; but it is quite impossible, so far as I am concerned. My business—"

"My—my mother!" cried Ruth. "We could not leave her so long; she needs our help—"

Mr Farrell interrupted with upraised hand.

"We will defer objections, if you please! I am prepared to meet and answer them, later on. For the present I ask you to think quietly over the prospect which lies before you, and to consider how far such obstacles as you have mentioned should be allowed to stand in the way. Surely the object is worth some temporary inconvenience or loss. This house, and all that it contains, with various properties bringing in an income of over ten thousand a year, will in due course become the property of one of your number—of the one who best fulfils a certain condition which I consider essential."

"And the condition—the condition?" queried Mollie eagerly.

Mr Farrell looked at her in silence, while a grim smile passed over his features.

"That," he said slowly—"that, my dear Miss Mary,—will be discovered, with other things,—when you hear my will read aloud on the day of my funeral?"



CHAPTER EIGHT.

SPECULATIONS.

"Well!" exclaimed Ruth, sinking back in armchair number one, at the right of the bedroom fireplace.

"Well!" exclaimed Mollie, sinking back in armchair number two, facing her sister. "Likewise, good sooth! By my halidom! Gadzooks! Of a surety these are great happenings, fair sis!"

"Don't be so tiresome, Mollie! You make a joke out of everything. I want to talk over the position seriously."

"So do I—just dying to. Go on! Where shall we begin?"

"With the time, of course. Three months! I never dreamt of more than a fortnight, at most. Do you think we can possibly be spared?"

"I don't think at all—I know! If it was three years, with such an interest at stake, the poor little mother would jump at it. Three months soon pass, and there will be two people less to feed and wait upon, and a room less to keep in order. Every little tells when people are as hard up as we are, and with the savings mother will be able to pay Miss Carter to help with the mending. It will be good for Trix, too. The more you depend upon Trix the more she rises to the occasion. I have a shrewd suspicion that she is going to cut us out, and be the show daughter of the family. Mother will be blissfully happy building castles in the air; Trix will be blissfully happy playing eldest daughter, and bossing the family. We shall be blissfully happy not pretending, but actually being, Berengaria and Lucille. It's all quite smooth and easy!"

Ruth heaved a sigh, half convinced, half reluctant.

"That's what you always say! I see such crowds of objections. To begin with, I hate the position; it's awkward and humiliating. To stay here on approval, studied like specimens in a case; being on one's good behaviour, and 'acting pretty' to try to get a fortune for oneself, away from other people—bah! It makes me hot even to think of it. I should feel a hypocrite!"

"Don't be high-flown, dear; it's quite unnecessary. You couldn't be a hypocrite if you tried; you are too ridiculously 'proud,' I suppose you would say. I call it quick-tempered! If Uncle Bernard snubs you, you will flare out, fortune or no fortune, and if you feel mopey, mope you will, if he disinherits you the next moment. I shall be honest, too, because I'm too lazy to be anything else; besides, you know, there is always the pleasing reflection that he may prefer us to be crotchety! Everything is possible where everything is vague. Imagine how maddening it would be if we kept our tempers, and smiled sweetly from morning till night, and in the end he left everything to that cross Mr Melland, because he considered it necessary for the owner of wealth to have a will of his own!"

Ruth laughed involuntarily.

"You are a goose! Not much chance of your being the chosen one, I am afraid. Uncle Bernard is not in the mood for appreciating nonsense; he is too sad and ill, poor old man! That's another hateful thing. I should love to nurse and coddle him, and read aloud, and be good to him generally; but if one does, it will seem— Oh, you know— you understand! It's a loathsome position!"

"If I feel affectionate, I shall act affectionate! He will probably loathe it, so there's just as much chance of injuring one's chance as of bettering it. In fact, if we are to get on at all, we had better try to forget the wretched money, and behave as if it did not exist. If anyone had told us a month ago that we should be staying in a big house with two quite good-looking young men as fellow-guests, and carte blanche to enjoy ourselves as much as we pleased, we would have thought it too impossibly good to be true; but now that it has come true, we shall be idiots if we don't make the most of it. I hope Uncle Bernard keeps to his idea of making us each master of the ceremonies in turn. Won't I make the money fly when it comes to my turn! Picnics and luncheons by day, dances and theatricals by night—one giddy whirl of excitement the whole time long. I'll take the old dear at his word, and give no thought to expense, and entertain the whole countryside until the name of Mollie Farrell is immortalised for ever in grateful hearts. I have always credited myself with a genius for social life; now for the first time you will behold me in the halls of the great, and gaze with surprise at your sister reigning as queen over the assembled throngs?"

"In your one black dress?"

"Certainly not! I've thought of that, too. Suitable equipments must, of course, be part of the carte blanche."

"I am sure nothing was further from Uncle Bernard's thoughts. He looks to me like a man who would never notice clothes, or care what we looked like, so long, of course, as we were respectable. He has more important things on his mind."

"Humph!" Mollie tossed her saucy head. "If he doesn't notice of his own accord, his eyes must be gently, but firmly opened. We stay at his special request; at his special request we entertain and are entertained; it is only reasonable that he should bear the expense of making our appearance do him credit. I'll tell him so, too, if he doesn't see it for himself."

"Mollie, you won't! You shan't! You never could!"

"Couldn't I? You wait and see!"

"And if you did I would never touch a farthing. I warn you, once for all, that it is useless, so far as I am concerned."

Mollie looked at her sister's flushed, defiant face, and laughed her happy, light-hearted laugh.

"Dear old High-falutin'! We won't argue about it. Half a dozen invitations will show you the soundness of my position better than a hundred discussions. Meantime, I'm going to dress. I have a horrible conviction that that maid will return and offer to do 'your hair, madam,' so I mean to be beforehand with her."

Ruth sat still in her chair, enjoying the unwonted luxury of idling, with no disturbing spasm of conscience to remind her that she ought to be mending or patching, or giving Betty a music lesson, or helping Mary to hang clean curtains in the drawing-room. It was delightful to nestle back against the cushions and study one by one the dainty appointments of the room, and revel in the unaccustomed sense of space. Imagine just for a moment—imagine possessing such a home of one's own! The house, with its treasures of beautiful and artistic furnishings, which represented the lifelong gatherings of a man renowned for his taste; the extensive grounds, with gardens and vineries and forests of glass, providing an endless summer of blossom; the income, that in itself was a fortune, and held such inexhaustible possibilities of good. What she could do with it, if it were only hers! With one stroke of the pen she would repay the poor old tired pater for all his goodness in the past, and lift the weight of care for the future from his shoulders. She would heap luxuries upon the dear little mother, who was still a child at heart; so pathetically easy to please that it seemed a sin that she should ever be sad. The girls should be sent to finishing schools, and the boys given a thorough training to equip them for their fight in life. Mollie, of course, should live at the Court, and share equally in all her possessions; and they would travel, and help the poor, and be kind to everyone, and never forget the day of small things! or grow arrogant and purse-proud. Ruth dreamed on in a passion of longing till Mollie, standing before the dressing-table, with her white arms raised to her head, caught sight of her face in the mirror, and uttered a sharp exclamation.

"Ruth! What is it, darling?"

Ruth started nervously and glanced upwards with guilty eyes, but there was nothing alarming in the aspect of the figure which stood over her, white necked, white armed, with the loosened golden hair falling round the anxious face. She caught the outstretched hand, and gripped it tightly between her own.

"Oh, Mollie, I want it! I want it dreadfully! When I think of the possibility I feel half wild. If I am disappointed, I believe I shall die! I can't be unselfish, even for you. I want it for myself!"

She was on the verge of tears, but Mollie's matter-of-fact cheeriness had the usual bracing effect. She seemed neither shocked nor surprised, but only anxious to soothe.

"Of course you do; so do we all!" she replied easily. "It's humbug to pretend anything else, only I'm not going to die, in any case, but live and make myself agreeable to the Chosen. If it's you, I shall sponge on you for life, so don't imagine you will have all the fun to yourself. Now get dressed, and don't think about it any more. We must look our best to awe those two superior young men. I am convinced that they look upon us as country bumpkins, and it's most important to put them in their proper position at once, so that we may start fair. If you are going to do your hair in skriggles it will take you an age, so do begin!"

Ruth rose obediently. "Skriggles" was an inelegant but descriptive title for her most becoming coiffure, which she had already decided must be adopted for the first eventful evening at the Court. She set to work at once, and was half-way through her task when the maid appeared, as Mollie had prophesied, paused upon the threshold for one horrified moment, and then hurried forward with an "Allow me, miss!" which could not be gainsaid.

The girls grimaced at one another furtively, but in the end the value of the skilled hands was proved by a dainty finish to hair and toilette which sent them downstairs agreeably conscious of looking their best.



CHAPTER NINE.

MR. JACK MELLAND.

In the drawing-room Mr Farrell and his two nephews were standing with their backs to the fire, in the position affected by mankind in that trying wait before dinner. Little Mrs Wolff was stiffly perched upon an uncomfortable chair, twisting her mittened fingers together and looking supremely uncomfortable, and there appeared to be no attempt at conversation. Everyone looked at the two girls as they crossed the wide room, and once again Mollie surprised that curious gleam of disapproval in Victor Druce's veiled eyes. Mr Melland was apparently still on his high horse, a faint flush upon his face, his nostrils curved and dilated. As for Uncle Bernard himself, his set face showed no sign of approval or the reverse; he simply bowed to his nieces, and waved them towards a seat, saying curtly—

"Our party is not complete. I have asked the vicar and his wife to dine with us, and make your acquaintance. They will probably arrive in a few minutes."

"Oh yes!" said Ruth vaguely. Even Mollie suffered a moment's eclipse, during which she sought in vain for an appropriate remark. It was too absurd, she told herself, to sit round the room like mutes at a funeral. What was the use of a lady chaperon if she could not fill up the gaps with harmless inanities? She glanced from one stolid face to another, then made a desperate plunge.

"What time do the posts go, Uncle Bernard? We ought to let mother know of our arrival."

"I have already directed a telegram to that effect to be despatched. May I suggest that you delay any communication on your own part until we have had a future conversation."

Checkmate! Mollie gave a vague murmur of assent, and cast about for remark number two.

"It seems so funny to be here and to see all the things we have heard about so often! I recognise this room quite well from mother's description. There is an alcove behind me, isn't there, with a harp in the corner?"

"The harp was removed years ago. I imagine there are a great many alterations since your mother's last visit. The use of the word 'funny' is somewhat inappropriate, is it not? I see nothing ludicrous in the position."

Check number two! Mollie's wide-eyed perturbation was almost pathetic in its intensity. She was not accustomed to being snubbed in this public fashion, and, after the first shock, a feeling of resentment brought the colour rushing into her cheeks.

"I meant 'curious.' The two words are often used for each other."

"Mistakenly so. Many situations are curious which are not in the least degree amusing."

"They are indeed!" was Mollie's mental comment. "The present, for example; anything much less festive I fail to imagine." Her lips twitched involuntarily as the thought passed through her mind, and, looking up, she met Jack Melland's eyes fixed full on her, with an answering twinkle in their blue depths. For one agonising moment she trembled upon the brink of laughter, when mercifully the door was thrown open to announce the arrival of the vicar and his wife. Mr Thornton was tall and thin, with a much-lined face full of shrewd kindness and sympathy; his wife was a pretty, plump little woman, who looked on exceedingly good terms with herself and the world at large.

"Thank goodness, they will talk! They look alive, not mere graven images," Mollie said to herself thankfully, as the necessary introductions were taking place. Then the squire gave his arm to Mrs Thornton, Mr Thornton offered his in turn to Mrs Wolff, and Victor Druce, evidently obeying a previous instruction, paired off with Ruth, leaving Mollie to his companion.

In silence the little company crossed the hall; in silence they seated themselves round the dinner-table and prepared for the feast. Ruth's grey eyes were brilliant with excitement as she turned from side to side. She did not want to talk; conversation would have been but an interruption at the moment; she wanted but to look and to think.

The walls were covered with portraits of ancestors—Captain Farrell who sailed the seas with Nelson's fleet; General Farrell who fought under Wellington; Lord Edward Farrell, the famous judge; fresh-faced country squires in quaint, old-world costumes. The dim faces looked down from their frames with a curious, haunting likeness running through all; and at the head of the table sat the last of his race, the grim old man to whom death was coming. Ah, it must be hard to look back on so good a race, to realise that no son remained alive to carry on the name, and that one of the strangers now seated round his own table would shortly reign in his place!

Ruth thrilled with pity; her beautiful eyes grew soft and dreamy; and the clergyman, looking at her across the table, could scarcely restrain an exclamation of surprise. He had understood that Mr Farrell possessed only distant relatives, but this girl was a true chip of the old block; allowing for difference of age and sex, here was the same face which was repeated again and again upon the walls—the aquiline features, the melancholy lips, the straight heavy brows.

Mr Thornton knew that the time had come when his host was to choose his successor at the Court, and, looking from one to the other of the four young people, he personally felt no doubt as to the one on whom the choice would fall. Ruth Farrell bore her credentials in her face, and with a thrill, half painful, half amused, he realised how great a factor in his own life this slim young girl might be. As lady of the Court and his own patron, she would have it in her power to ensure his comfort or the reverse. Ah, well, well, it was too early to speculate! The child had a sweet, good face; no doubt all would be well.

While Ruth and the vicar were absorbed in their own thoughts, Mrs Wolff was also silent, overcome with the weight of responsibility which pressed heavily on her unaccustomed shoulders. Little Mrs Thornton prattled of cheery nothings at the other end of the table, and Jack Melland, turning towards his companion, remarked formally—

"I—ah—I think we have met earlier in the day!"

"In the train, you mean; yes! We saw you get out at the station, but you disappeared so quickly that I could not think what had happened to you."

"Nothing mysterious. A dogcart had been sent for me. I jumped into it with my bag, and was out of sight before you had gathered together your possessions."

"Ah, yes; we had boxes in the van." Mollie tilted her head to its characteristic angle and smiled at him with wide grey eyes. "And you watched our toilette across the carriage, little guessing it was for your own benefit. We knew that we were to meet other visitors here, but had no idea who they were or how many there might be. We imagined walking into the midst of a big house-party; hence the preparations. It was only natural we should want to look nice."

"Perfectly! I am glad I was fortunate enough to see the result, since I suppose no one else—"

Mollie shook her head tragically.

"Not a soul! Mrs Wolff met us and sent us straight up to our room. If it had not been for you, the new gloves would have been wasted on the desert air; but now we can console ourselves that our trouble was of some use, after all, since at least half the party had the benefit. Were you also despatched straight upstairs?"

"I was. Afterwards, Druce and I had tea in the billiard-room, and went on to join you in the library. It has been a somewhat trying opportunity; I sympathised with your conversational efforts before dinner."

Mollie's brows went up at this, and she made a sceptical little grimace.

"That is not my idea of sympathy! You stood by and watched me flounder without making a effort to help. It's not at all pleasant to be snubbed before a roomful of strangers. You might easily have remarked that it was a fine day, or that the train was punctual. Anything is better than a ghastly silence."

"But, you see, I had had my innings before you arrived. As a matter of fact I had introduced those very subjects, and added some original remarks on the beauty of the scenery. I fared no better than you, so my fellow-feeling made me sympathise with you, though I had no spirit to try again."

Mollie laughed under her breath, the influence of her surroundings instinctively subduing the usual merry trill. This Mr Melland was an unexpectedly pleasant companion, now that his former gloom and irritability of manner had disappeared. It was as if a dreaded prospect had been removed, and he was luxuriating in recovered freedom. Mollie wondered what the change of circumstances could be; time, no doubt, would show; and, when they had reached a greater degree of intimacy, she would tease him about his sudden change of front, and treat him to a pantomimic imitation of his former gloomy frowns. The prospect pleased her, and she laughed again, showing the pretty dimples in her cheek, while Jack Melland looked at her inquiringly.

"What's the joke? May I hear it?"

"Oh, nothing—I was just imagining! All sorts of things fly through one's head, especially to-day, when we really are in an exciting position. At home my sister and I have a very quiet time, and we get most of our excitement in dreams. We imagine things until they are almost real. Don't you know the feeling?"

"No!" cried Mr Melland bluntly. His brows were arched, his nostrils curved with the old look of scornful superiority. "I have no experience of the kind, and I don't want to have. It's a dangerous habit. We have to live among realities, and very commonplace realities, for the most part; and it unfits one for work to be dreaming of impossibilities."

"No, no, no; it helps one! It is like a tonic which braces one up for the ordinary routine."

"It is like a sleeping draught—agreeable for the time, but mischievous and relaxing in its after effects."

Grey eyes met blue with a flash of defiance, then softened into smiles.

"It depends upon disposition," said Mollie firmly. "We find nothing relaxing about it, but a great deal of innocent amusement. When we are out shopping and want something badly and can't have it, because it costs five shillings and we only possess half a crown, Ruth says to me, 'Let's pretend a letter arrived by the afternoon post to say someone had left us a million pounds! What would you do first of all?' Then we can talk about it for the rest of the walk, and decide what dresses we would have, and where we should live, and the papers we should have in the entertaining room, and the furniture in our bedrooms; and we choose things out of all the shop-windows as we pass, and decide where they shall go. I've furnished my house so often that I really know the rooms, and love them into the bargain."

"And when you go back into the real house you are discontented and amazed at the contrast."

"Oh dear, no! That would be silly. I am so refreshed by my visit to the castle that I can laugh over the shabbiness which annoyed me before. You don't think it wrong to read an interesting book? Very well, then, why is it wrong to indulge in a little fiction on one's own account?"

"Wrong is rather a strong word, perhaps, but there is a great difference between the two. In reading a book you forget yourself in your interest about others; in dreams—excuse me—you think constantly of yourself, and play the part of hero. It is a habit which is inclined to make one consider oneself the most interesting person on earth."

"Well, so you are! To yourself, I mean; you know you are!" cried Mollie, with an innocent naivete which made Mr Melland laugh again. It was seldom, indeed, that anyone was honest enough to confess to self- love, and her candour seemed infectious, for, on the verge of contradicting her assertion with regard to himself, a sudden recollection rushed through him of his own thoughts, doubts, conflicts, and final determination of the past twenty-four hours. Did not every one of these concern himself as a primary, if not an only, motive? Was he not exercised, first of all, by a sense of his own importance, so that the wishes of a dying man availed nothing against the preservation of his own dignity? The laugh gave place to a frown as he replied—

"If it is so it ought certainly to be discouraged. One ought not deliberately to pamper selfishness."

Mollie's eyes dropped to her plate, and her lips pouted in an involuntary grimace.

"Rather inclined to preach," she said to herself naughtily, "and so intensely practical and matter of fact! I must devote myself to the education of his higher faculties. I shall have something to say to you, Mr Jack Melland, the first time that will of yours comes into opposition with my own.—'One ought not deliberately to pamper selfishness.'—Delightful sentence! I must not forget it."



CHAPTER TEN.

INTRODUCTIONS.

In the drawing-room, after dinner, Mrs Thornton made herself agreeable to the two girls, and was evidently full of interest and curiosity.

"Having the Court open again will make a great deal of difference to the village in general, and to ourselves in particular," she said, smiling. "Mr Farrell has been so invalided of late years that we have seen nothing of him, and it is quite an excitement to dine here again. Dr Braithey told us whom we were to meet, and that, of course, added greatly to the pleasure. I hope you will like the neighbourhood, and enjoy your visit. You must let me help you in any way that is in my power. I hope you will, for I love being with young people and making them happy."

One glance at the kindly face of the speaker proved the truth of her assertion, and both girls assented gladly. A few hours' acquaintance had proved Mrs Wolff to be a mere figurehead of a chaperon, and Ruth shrewdly suspected that her very weakness had been the attraction in Mr Farrell's eyes, since, in consequence, she would be less likely to hinder that display of character and self-will which it was his object to study. Failing Mrs Wolff, then, it was a comfort to meet this brisk, motherly woman, who might be depended on as a helpful confidante.

Mollie glanced at the heaped-up fire, and, with a sudden impulse of friendliness, pulled forward an armchair, saying eagerly—

"Do sit down! Let us all sit down and be cosy till the men come; and will you tell us about the neighbourhood and the people we shall know? We are to be here for three months, and uncle says we can entertain as much as we like. He wants us to entertain, but of course we must know the people first. Do you suppose we shall have many callers?"

Mrs Thornton laughed merrily.

"There's no doubt about that, my dear. Everybody who is anybody within a radius of a dozen miles will think of nothing, and speak of nothing, and dream of nothing else but you and your cousins until they have made your acquaintance. We have not much to excite us in the country, and to have the Court open again, with four young people to act as hosts, is a sensation of the first water. There will be a stream of callers after you have appeared in church on Sunday. You will have a busy time driving over the country returning their calls, and after these formalities are over the invitations will begin. I don't think you will find any lack of hospitality."

The girls looked at each other with tragic glances which said "One black dress!" so plainly to their own understanding that it seemed as if everyone else must interpret the meaning. Ruth flushed, and asked hurriedly—

"Are there many girls like ourselves living pretty near?"

"Oh dear, yes; girls are never at a discount in a country place. Let me see, now, how shall I describe them! In the village itself there is Dora Braithey, the doctor's daughter, a very good, useful worker in the parish; and Lettice Baldwin, who lives with her widowed mother; and the three Robsons, who are what they call good sportsmen, and go in for games; and further afield there is Honor Edgecombe of Mount Edgecombe, a charming girl, and very musical; and Grace and Schilla Trevor; and the Blounts at the Moat have a London niece, Lady Margot Blount, who pays them a long visit every year. She is staying there now, and is sure to call. She is very elegant and distinguished-looking, and we all admire her immensely. My husband thinks her a model of everything that a girl should be."

Ruth and Mollie, staring fixedly into the fire, were naughtily conscious of a dislike towards the immaculate Margot, who had suddenly loomed on their horizon as a formidable rival in the favour of the neighbourhood, while Mrs Thornton unconsciously proceeded cheerily with her recital—

"Of course there are many more, but I am mentioning the most attractive. We have a few young men, too, and most of the big houses have constant visitors for shooting or fishing, so that you can manage to get partners if you want a little hop now and then. And then, as you would suppose, I hope you will find time to take an interest in the parish. I don't ask you to take up any active work, for, of course, as visitors your time will not be your own, but I should like to tell you of our various clubs and enterprises."

"I hope you will not only tell us of them, but show them to us as well. Uncle Bernard wishes us to do exactly as we choose, so our time is our own, and I should like to do some work. I should feel so idle doing nothing but enjoying myself," cried Ruth eagerly.

Mrs Thornton's smile of approval had a somewhat wistful expression.

As her husband had done before her, she looked at these two young girls, and wondered if the time to come would see one of them acting the role of the squire and patron, and as such holding almost unlimited power over the parish. They seemed kindly, natural creatures, who would be well disposed towards the vicar and his family; and a woman had more understanding of little things than any mere man.

In the flash of an eye Mrs Thornton's mind reviewed the damp patch on her drawing-room wall, the ill-fitting windows which let in a constant draught; the hopeless ruin of the tiny conservatory, wherein she reared her precious "bedding-outs."

She could not but remember that other squires not only kept their vicar's house in order, but assisted in sending sons to college, daughters to finishing schools, and expressed their interest in the family in a hundred helpful ways; but Mr Farrell had seemed unconscious of the very existence of her precious olive branches, and had never gone beyond the bare duties of his position.

Mrs Thornton was no vulgar schemer for her own benefit, but just a mother of a large family, struggling to make the most of a small income; and a quick repentance for the selfishness of her dreams prompted the desire to help these two young things who were suddenly called upon to fill a difficult position.

"Remember, I am always to be found at home or somewhere about the village. You will soon get to know my haunts, so that you can run me to earth if you need my services. Just come in and out as you like; the oftener you come the better I shall be pleased, for I am so anxious to help you, if you will allow me."

"We will, we will! it is lovely of you to offer; and do please help us now!" cried Mollie eagerly, as the sound of an opening door was heard in the distance, and footsteps crossed the hall towards the drawing-room. "Talk, talk; do talk! I tried before dinner, and got snubbed for my pains; and we are such strangers that it is difficult to know what to say next."

Mrs Thornton laughed.

"I'll do what I can," she promised good-naturedly. "Someone may suggest to Mr Farrell a game of whist. He used to be a crack player, so I don't think he can resist the temptation, and that would leave you young folks free to make each other's acquaintance."

As she spoke the gentlemen entered the room and approached the group by the fireside. Judging from their appearance, the last half-hour had not been particularly lively, for the vicar looked tired and worried, and the young men unmistakably bored. Mr Farrell's set face showed few changes of expression, but a faint gleam of pleasure manifested itself at the mention of his favourite game, and presently the four elders of the party were occupied, while the younger members stood together in a somewhat embarrassed silence.

Left entirely to their own resources, no one knew what to say or what to do; each girl looked first at her partner of the dinner-table, and then shyly across at the other stranger who was to be a daily companion during the next three months. Ruth met no answering glance, for Jack Melland was frowningly regarding the carpet; but for the first time Mollie had a direct view of the eyes which were habitually hidden behind Victor Druce's thick eyelashes, and was surprised to find how bright and friendly was their expression.

"Shall we investigate the conservatory?" he said at once, as if answering an unspoken appeal. "They won't want us to stay here and interrupt the game. I think we had better make a move."

"But may we? Would Uncle Bernard like it?"

"May we! Are we not told to amuse ourselves in any way we choose? Of course we may," he replied laughingly, leading the way forward, while the others followed, nothing loth.

The conservatory opened out of the drawing-room by means of a long glass door, which, being shut, made it into a separate room. A room it was, rather than the ordinary glass passage, for it had a wide, open floor, broken only by spreading palms standing in wooden boxes, and in the midst an old-fashioned pink camellia-tree. Stands of flowers encircled three sides, and a lamp stood out from the walls in a bracket. Given a few rugs and accessories, it would have made an ideal lounge. As it was, there was no provision for visitors, and it was evident that no one but the gardener took the trouble to enter. Mr Druce looked round rapidly, spied a wooden box under one stand, a stool under another, and brought them forward one after another, flicking off the dust with his handkerchief.

"You must have something to sit on. Can you manage with these, or shall I bring chairs from the drawing-room? I don't want to make a noise if I can help it."

"No, no; please don't! These will do perfectly. But what will you do, and Mr Melland? You must not stand all the time."

"Oh, don't trouble about us! We can look after ourselves," responded Jack Melland, pushing the flower-pots nearer together on the staging, and lightly swinging himself into the vacant space. Victor followed his example, and thrust his hands into his pockets.

For the next few minutes silence reigned while the young men took in and quite obviously admired the charming picture made by the two girlish figures against the background of flowering plants.

Ruth's stool had been placed against the camellia-tree, and the pink blooms matched the soft flush in her cheeks, and relieved the sombreness of her black attire. Thus placed she looked charmingly pretty, and held herself with an air of dignity, which was a new accomplishment.

Ruth was an adaptive creature, tremendously influenced by the surroundings of the moment. At home her little head was wont to droop with despondency, and the consciousness that she was poor and unknown and shabbily dressed. At the Court she was intensely, delightfully assured of being Miss Farrell—of possessing the family features, and of being, so far, the recipient of her uncle's greatest favour. And so Ruth now leant back with an air of languid elegance, smiling sweetly at her companions.

Mollie's bright head peeped from beneath the shadow of a palm. She held in her hand a spray of heliotrope, which she had picked in passing, and from time to time bent to smell the fragrance, with little murmurs of delight.

But Mollie was obviously longing to say something, and when the time came that she met Jack Melland's eye she suddenly plucked up courage to put it into words.

"Don't you think we ought to introduce ourselves properly?" she cried eagerly. "We have been told each other's names, and talked politely at dinner, but that's not really being introduced. We ought to know something about each other, if we are to be companions here. I don't know if you two know each other; but we did not know of your existence until to-day. My mother used to stay at the Court when she was a bride, and she loved Aunt Edna, and has often talked to us about her; but she knew very little of her relations, and for the last twenty years or more she has never seen Uncle Bernard until he suddenly descended upon us last week.

"We live in the North—in Liverpool. People in the South seem to think it is a dreadful place; but it isn't at all. The river is splendid, and out in the suburbs, where we live, it's very pretty, near a beautiful big park. The people are nice, too. We are rather conceited about ourselves in comparison with the people in the towns round about. You have heard the saying, 'Manchester man, Liverpool gentleman,' and we are proud of our county, too. 'What Lancashire thinks to-day, England thinks to-morrow.' I really must boast a little bit, because South- country people are so proud and superior, and seem to think that no one but themselves knows how to speak or behave. Someone said to me once, 'You live in Liverpool, then why haven't you a Lancashire accent?' I was so cross. What should she have thought of me if I had said, 'You live in London, why don't you speak like a Cockney?' We are not at all ashamed, but very proud indeed, of coming from the North-countree."

"'Oh, the oak and the ash, And the bonnie ivy tree,'"

chanted Victor, in a pleasant baritone voice, at the sound of which Mollie flushed with delight, and cried eagerly—

"Ah, you are musical! That's nice. We must have some grand singing matches, but you mustn't sing that ballad. It's Ruth's special property. She sings it with such feeling!

"'And the lad that marries me, Must carry me home to my North-coun-tree!'"

"Mollie!" Ruth's tone was eloquent of reproof, but Mollie only laughed, and said easily—

"Oh well, of course, if you inherit the Court you will have to change your plans. I wish I could lift it up bodily and put it down among the dear Westmorland mountains; but I'm afraid that's impossible. I think that is all the history we have. No two girls could possibly have led a less eventful life. We have had no money to travel and see the world, and we are not in the least bit accomplished, but we have had a happy time all the same, and we mean to be happy, whatever happens; don't we, Ruth?"

Ruth did not answer, but sat with downcast eyes, staring at the ground. She more than half disapproved of Mollie's candour, despising herself the while for so doing, so she preserved a dead silence, until Jack Melland nobly stepped into the breach.

"Well, if you are North-country, Miss Mollie, I suppose I am Colonial. I was born in India, where my father's regiment was stationed. He died when I was a youngster, and my poor little mother had a hard struggle to keep herself and me. If a fortune had come to us in those days it would have been a godsend, and she would probably be with me now; but she died eight years ago, and I am alone in the world, with no one to think of but myself. I have dingy diggings and a garrulous landlady, but, like you, I manage to have a very good time. I am interested in my work—I'm interested in life generally. I mean to make something out of it before I am done."

He threw back his head with a proud, self-confident gesture. Young, strong, high-spirited, he felt at that moment that the world lay at his feet. All things seemed possible to his unaided powers, and the thought of help was repugnant rather than welcome. The two girls looked at him with the involuntary admiration which women pay to a strong man, while Victor Druce smiled his slow, inscrutable smile.

"A good thing for you that you are not in my profession, Melland! A barrister can't push; he must sit still and wait his turn. I have been waiting a long time, and I can't say that I seem much nearer the Woolsack. Still, one can amuse oneself in London, and I have my home in the country to which I can retire whenever I need a rest. My old parents are alive, and one sister—an invalid. Altogether, I have nothing to complain of in the past, and the future looks pleasant just now. Three months in this charming place—in such society!"

Victor Druce made a graceful little bow, which took in both the girls, and his glance lingered on Mollie bending forward, the spray of heliotrope still raised to her face.

"Stealing already, Miss Mollie! You will get into trouble with the authorities. How do you know that plant was not being specially preserved for exhibition at a show?"

"I hope it wasn't; but it's no use telling me to do as I like, and then to object if I pick a flower. I shall pick them every day—several times a day. I shall always be picking them! I think I shall take the care of this house altogether, and do the watering and snip off the dead leaves. I love snipping! And I shall arrange the flowers on the table, too; they are very badly done—so stiff. Just like a man's taste!"

The two men smiled at each other, while Ruth protested quickly—

"No, you can't, Mollie. I'm the eldest, and I've 'barleyed' it already. You can arrange the vases in the drawing-room, if you like."

"Thank you, ma'am!" said Mollie calmly. "Just as you like."

Judging from the fervour with which she had stated her intentions a moment earlier, the listeners expected that she would dispute her sister's mandate and hardly knew how to account for her unruffled composure. But, in truth, Mollie was already reflecting that flowers took a long time to arrange satisfactorily, and that it would be a bore to saddle herself with a regular duty. Much more fun to let Ruth do it, and criticise the results! She sniffed daintily at the heliotrope, turning her head from side to side to examine the possibilities of the conservatory.

"Well, anyway, I shall take this place in hand! It will make a lovely little snuggery, with rugs on the floor and basket-chairs everywhere about, and an odd table or two to hold books and work, and tea when we like to have it here. I'll have a blind to the door, too, so that we shan't be surprised if visitors are shown into the drawing-room. Is there a door of escape, by the way? I hate to be penned up where I can't run away to a place of safety." She peered inquiringly round the trunk of the palm, whereupon Victor Druce slid down from his perch, and walked to the further end of the floor.

"Yes, there's a door here. If you see anyone coming for whom you have a special aversion you can get out, and hide in the shrubbery. I promise not to tell. Perhaps I may come with you. I am not fond of afternoon calls."

"Don't encourage her, please, Mr Druce," said Ruth quickly. "Mollie talks a lot of nonsense which she doesn't mean; but if people are kind enough to come here to see us, she must not be so rude as to refuse to see them. I am sure Uncle Bernard would be very angry if we did not receive them properly."

But Mollie was obstinate this time, and refused to be put down.

"How do you know?" she asked rebelliously. "He might be very pleased with me for sharing his own retiring tastes! He said himself that he approved of what other people would consider a fault. Perhaps he likes unsociability. There's as much chance of that as anything else!"

Victor Druce came back from his tour of investigation, but instead of taking his former seat, leant up against the stem of a huge palm-tree, whose topmost leaves touched the glass roof, folded his arms and looked down at the two girls with an intent, curious scrutiny.

"It's an odd position," he said slowly, "a very odd position for us all to be plunged in at a moment's notice! None of us have any knowledge of Mr Farrell's tastes, so any attempts to please him must be entirely experimental. If we please him we may thank our good fortune; if we offend, we can, at least, feel innocent of any bad intentions. It's rather a disagreeable position, but I expect the poor old fellow shirks being left to himself any longer, though he would die rather than acknowledge it. It's dull work being left alone when one is ill. Personally, it is extremely inconvenient for me to be away from home for three months, but I shall manage it somehow. One can't refuse a request from a man in his condition, and it would be a pleasure to cheer the poor old fellow a bit, even at the cost of one's own comfort."

There was silence for a moment after he had ceased speaking. Jack Melland stared at the ground, and swung his feet gently to and fro. Ruth knitted her black brows, and Mollie looked puzzled and thoughtful. It was a kind speech. She would have liked to admire it thoroughly, but—did it ring quite true? Was there not something unnatural in the avoidance of any reference by the speaker to his own possible gain?

"I'm afraid I didn't think much of Uncle Bernard; I was too busy thinking of myself. I want to have a good time!" she said bluntly. "It's a lovely, lovely house, and the grounds are lovely, and the spring flowers are coming up, and we can live out of doors, and be as happy as the day is long. I am not going to worry my head about the money, or anything else. I'll be nice to Uncle Bernard in my own way, as nice as he will let me; but he said that we could enjoy ourselves, and I am going to take him at his word, and do every single thing I like. It's an opportunity which may never occur again, as the shop people say in their circulars, and it would be foolish not to make the most of it."

"I want the money!" said Ruth clearly. The pretty flush had faded from her cheeks, and she looked suddenly wan and white. The hands which were resting on her knee trembled visibly. She had evidently strung herself up to what she considered a necessary confession, and her eyes turned to one after another of her companions in wistful apology.

"I want it dreadfully! I have been poor all my life, and have longed to be rich, and I would rather live here, in this house, than anywhere else in the world. If we are going to live together and be friends we ought to be honest with each other from the beginning. It's selfish, but it's true! I want the money, and I mean to do every single thing in my power to get it."

"Bravo!" cried a man's voice suddenly. Mollie was frowning and biting her lips in obvious discomfort; Victor Druce's drooping lids once more hid his eyes from sight as he stood with folded arms leaning against the palm. It was Jack Melland who had spoken—Jack Melland, roused for once to display unqualified approval and enthusiasm. He bent forward on his seat, hands in his pockets, his tall, lithe figure swaying gently to and fro as he faced Ruth with his bright blue eyes.

"Bravo, Miss Farrell! I admire your honesty, and wish you good luck. You are perfectly justified in doing all you can to gain your point, and I sincerely hope you may be successful. It is only right that a Farrell should inherit the Court, and if you were the old man's grand-daughter, you could not possibly be more like him."

Ruth flushed, but did not reply. Victor Druce's measured voice cut like a sword across the silence.

"You are unselfish, Melland! Are you quite sure that you share the honesty which you admire so much in Miss Farrell? Have you forgotten how the question affects yourself?"

Jack Melland jumped lightly to the ground and straightened his long back.

"Unselfish or not, it's the truth. The question does not affect me at all. I am not going to stay!"



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN EARLY DECISION.

"I am not going to stay," said Jack Melland; and whatever his faults might be, he looked and spoke like a man who knew his own mind, and would abide thereby.

His three companions stared at him in silence, and one of the three at least felt a distinct sinking of the heart.

"I was beginning to like him; we got on quite famously at dinner, and I thought we were going to have ever such a good time together. Now we shall be a wretched uncomfortable three, and Mr Druce will like Ruth best, and I shall be out in the cold. How horrid! How perfectly horrid!" grumbled Mollie to herself.

Just because she was so perturbed, however, she would not allow herself to speak, but put on an elaborate display of indifference, while Victor asked curiously—

"You mean that? May one ask your reason?"

"Oh, certainly. I never looked upon myself as having the slightest claim upon Mr Farrell, and I don't care to ruin my business prospects for the sake of an off-chance. Besides, the whole position is unpleasant; I object to being kept 'on approval,' with the consciousness that if I allow myself to be ordinarily agreeable I shall at once be credited with sponging for the old man's favour. I am quite satisfied with my own lot, without any outside assistance."

"Don't you care about money, then?" asked Ruth timidly.

Jack Melland threw back his head with an air of masterful complacency.

"I care about making money. That is to say, I love my work, and wish it to be successful, but I am keen on it more for the sake of the interest and occupation than for what it brings. A few hundreds a year supply all that I want, and I should not care to be burdened with a big fortune. If you come into this place, Miss Farrell, I shall be grateful to you if you will ask me down for a few days' shooting in the autumn, but I shall never envy you your responsibility. To kick my heels here in idleness for three solid months, and know that the business was suffering for want of my presence—nothing would induce me to do it!"

But at this Mollie found her tongue, indignation spurring her to speech.

"You are not very polite to the rest of us! I should not have thought it would be such a great hardship to stay in a lovely big house with three young companions, when summer was coming on, too! I should think there are one or two people in the world who would like it even a little better than poking in a stuffy office from morning until night. But there's no accounting for tastes. When you are grilling with heat in the City you can think of us sitting under the trees eating strawberries, and thank Fate you are so much better off. We promise not to send you any. It might remind you too painfully of the country!"

"Mollie!" cried Ruth in sharp reproof; but Jack laughed with good- natured amusement.

"Oh, I deserve it, Miss Farrell! My remarks sounded horribly discourteous. I assure you if I had the time to spare I should thoroughly enjoy staying on for a time under the present conditions; but as it is quite impossible to remain for three months, I might as well depart at once. I don't suppose Mr Farrell will wish to keep me under the circumstances."

It appeared, however, Jack Melland was wrong in his surmise, for when he announced his decision to his host before bidding him good-night, the old man looked at him coldly and replied—

"I thought I had explained that we would discuss objections at a later date. May I ask what limit you had mentally fixed to your visit when you did me the honour of accepting my invitation?"

"I hardly know—this is Monday. I thought, perhaps until Saturday, or, at the longest, a week."

Mr Farrell waved his hand in dismissal.

"We will leave it for a week, then. On Monday morning next I will discuss the position as fully as you wish. Now, if either of you young gentlemen cares to smoke, the billiard-room is at your service. Please ring for anything you require. Meantime, as it is past my usual hour for retiring, I wish you a very good-night."

"Checkmate, old fellow!" cried Victor Druce, as the door closed behind the stooping figure; but Jack deigned no reply.

The cloud had returned to his forehead, his nostrils were curved with annoyance and thwarted self-will.

The cloud was still there when he came down to breakfast next morning, and did not lighten even at the sight of the well-appointed breakfast- table, and the two pretty girls who were seated thereat. Some meals may be more attractive abroad than at home. A French dinner, for example, has certain points above an English dinner; but we give way to none as regards our breakfast—that most delightful of meals to the strong and healthy, especially in springtime, when the sunshine pours in at the open window, and the scent of flowers mingles with the aroma of freshly made coffee.

The breakfast-table of the Court had all the attractions which one instinctively associates with old country houses. The massive, old- fashioned silver, the revolving stand in the centre, the plentiful display of covered dishes to supplement the cold viands on the sideboard; and, as Mr Farrell invariably remained in his own room until lunch-time, the restraint of his presence was removed.

Little Mrs Wolff busied herself with the duties behind the urn, and Ruth and Mollie in serge skirts and spick and span white blouses looked as fresh as paint, and a great many times as pretty. They were laughing and chatting with Victor Druce, who had donned Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, and was quite the country gentleman both in appearance and in his manner of leisurely good-humour.

The entrance of Jack in what are technically called "Store clothes," with a gloomy frown upon his forehead, seemed to strike a jarring note in this cheerful scene, and both girls were conscious of a distinct feeling of grievance against the offender. Was it so dreadful a fate to be doomed to spend a whole week in their society? Need a man look as if his last hope in life were extinguished because Fate kept him away from the City for seven days, and placed him instead in the sweet green country, with three companions of his own age who—to put it mildly— were not perfect ogres in appearance!

The necessary greetings were observed. Jack helped himself to a bowl of porridge, and, looking up, asked discontentedly—

"Hasn't the newspaper arrived?"

"Not yet, sir; it will be here by ten o'clock, sir," the butler replied; and Mollie pulled down her lip with an expression of solemn propriety, and added—

"But perhaps I can relieve your anxiety in the meantime. Cotton is down twenty points, very strong and steady, and the Bears are making fortunes. 'Mauds' are fluctuating, but 'Louisa Christinas' are in great demand; everybody is rushing after them. The Bank rate is ten and a half, and Consols have gone up two per cent. General market firm, with a tendency to drop."

"My good child, what nonsense are you talking!" cried Ruth aghast, and the two young men exchanged glances and burst into a laugh; even Jack laughed, though such a feat had seemed impossible a moment before.

"What a thrilling report! You make me more impatient than ever. It is just like my luck to be out of the way when there is a chance of a good thing, though, after all, I don't know if the wisest plan would not be to sell everything one had, and put the money in the bank—eh, Druce? Ten and a half per cent! Where do you get your knowledge, Miss Mary?"

"Oh, I see things in the newspapers, and I hear the pater talking to his friends. Don't call me 'Miss Mary' please, it sounds far too quiet and proper for me. I am never called anything but Mollie, except when I overspend my allowance, and mother feels it her duty to scold me. Are you on the Stock Exchange, Mr Melland? What sort of business is it which you find so attractive?"

"I am afraid you would not be much wiser if I tried to explain. We are what is called 'brokers'; but there are an endless variety of businesses under the same name. I have nothing, however, to do with 'Mauds' and 'Christinas'!"

"Neither have I," volunteered Victor smilingly, "To tell the truth, I have no money to invest, Briefs don't come my way, and I am at present occupied listening to more fortunate fellows, and thinking how much better I could plead myself. It palls at times, but I am fond of the profession, and have no wish to change it."

"No," said Mollie reflectively. "The wigs are becoming!" and when the two young men leant back in their chairs and roared with laughter, she blushed and pouted, and looked so pretty that it did one good to see her.

The three earlier comers had finished their meal by this time, but they sat still until Jack had disposed of the toast and marmalade which makes the last breakfast course of every self-respecting Briton; then they rose one after the other, strolled over to the open window, and faced the question of the day—