gawky child, all
eyes and forehead. I remember I wanted you to have my excellent Miss
Bradley."

"I wouldn't have your excellent Bradley for an hour...."

But Mary had fled beyond the hearing of the voices. She had no curiosity
to hear any more of Lady Drummond's unflattering remarks concerning her.

Once again she longed for Wistaria Terrace. There was no place for her
in _this_ world, she said to herself; and sent a tender reproach in her
own mind to the father who had given her up for her good. Then she felt
contrite about Lady Anne. How good the old lady was to her, and how she
stood up for her, would stand up for her, even to the terrible Lady
Drummond! Still, it was not her world; it never would be. She thought,
with sudden childish tears filling her eyes, that the next time Lady
Anne went to see any of her fine friends she would pray to be left at
home.

The great suite of rooms opened one into the other. Mary was in the last
of them--a library walled in books from floor to ceiling. The heavy
velvet curtains that draped the arched entrance by which she had come
had fallen behind her. The silence in the room where the feet fell so
softly could be felt. There was not a sound but the ticking of a clock
on the mantel-shelf.

Suddenly she came to a standstill. She had entered the room, but how was
she to leave it? The doors were constructed of a piece with the
book-shelves. The backs of them were dummy books. Mary did not know in
the least how to discover the doors. In fact, she supposed that there
were not any. She would have to retrace the way she came--perhaps even
ask the terrible Lady Drummond how to get out.

She looked up at the long windows with the eye of a bird who has strayed
in and cannot find the way out. The elusive air of flight that was hers
was more pronounced at the moment.

Suddenly there was a sound, and, as Mary thought, the book-shelves
opened. She saw light through the opening. A tall boy came in,
whistling, and pulled up short as his eyes fell on her. He was about her
own age, or a little older.

Mary never forgot in after years the kindness and friendliness of his
face as his eyes rested upon her. He came forward slowly, putting out
his hand. The colour flooded his face to the roots of his fair hair.

"You came with Lady Anne Hamilton," he said. "I found the carriage
outside. I have sent it round to the stables and told the man to put up
the horses for a while. He will want some re