water on his
joyful mood.

"There is no fear," he answered, standing midway of the room with its
three large windows. "She is coming to see you, Milly. If I have failed
in anything you will succeed. You will see me at the top of the tree
yet. You will have cause to be proud of me."

"I am always proud of you. Kit," she said, in a low, impassioned voice.

Meanwhile, Lady Anne herself had made a pilgrimage to Wistaria Terrace
in the hour preceding the luncheon hour. She had left Mary in a deep
chair in the big drawing-room. Outside were the boughs of trees. From
the windows you could surprise the secrets of the birds if you would.
The room was very spacious, with chairs and sofas round the walls, a
great mirror at either end, a paper on its walls which pretended to be
panels wreathed in roses. The ceiling had a gay picture of gods and
goddesses reclining in a flowery mead. The mantelpiece was Carrara
marble, curiously inlaid with coloured wreaths. There was a fire in the
brass grate, although it was summer weather. The proximity of the trees
and the natural climate of the place meant damp. The fire sparkled in
the brass dogs and the brass jambs of the fireplace. The skin of a tiger
stretched itself along the floor. The terrible teeth grinned almost at
Mary's feet.

The child was sick and faint from the pain of having her arm set. She
lay in the deep sofa, covered with red damask, amid a bewildering
softness of cushions and rugs, and wondered what Lady Anne was saying to
Mamie. Mamie was Mrs. Gray. From the first Mary had not called her
Mother. Her name was Matilda, and Mamie was a sort of compromise.

Meanwhile, Lady Anne had gone out by her garden, through the stable, and
into the lane at the back. There was a little door open in the opposite
wall; beyond it was a shabby trellis with scarlet-runners clambering
upon it.

Lady Anne peeped within. A disheartened-looking woman was hanging a
child's frock on the line which was stretched from wall to wall. Three
children, ranging in age from two to five, were sitting on the grass
plot. Two were playing with white stones. The third was surveying its
own small feet with great interest, sucking at a fat thumb as though it
conveyed some delicious nourishment.

"Do I speak to Mrs. Gray?" asked Lady Anne, advancing. She had a
sunshade over her head, a deep-fringed thing with a folding handle. She
had bought it in Paris in the days of the Second Empire.

Mrs. Gray stared at