us!"

"That's it. When you are at Deeside you are breathing a weird
atmosphere, and Leo thrives in it. She knows all her neighbours, and
expects you to know them. She took me once to an enormous reception at
the opening of some building or other and it was beyond words--the most
appalling women in the most appalling clothes--I told you about
them--don't you remember the apple-green satin hat with six feathers?
Well, I could hardly contain myself, but Leo saw nothing to laugh at.
She ran about all over the place, chattering to everybody, and could
hardly be got away, she was enjoying herself so much."

"I don't blame her," said Maud indulgently. "I really don't blame her.
How should she know any better, poor child?"

At the close of the discussion Leo's doom was sealed.

True, it was now reopened, and Maud conceded that by-and-by, perhaps,
when by degrees the recalcitrant had been weaned from her ways, and
taught to tread the paths of righteousness according to Boldero ideas,
her case might be reconsidered,--but as, for decency's sake, the
teaching could not be begun just yet, it was agreed that Leo should
receive her lighted candle and good-night kiss in the hall, as before.

It was due to accident, however, not to design, that the sisters for
whose fellowship our poor little heroine yearned, permitted her to be
escorted by Sue only to take possession of her new domain. A milliner's
box had arrived from London, and been brought up with Mrs. Stubbs'
luggage. Leo could not compete with that box. It was all important that
the new assortment of hats despatched by the Maison du Cram should be
smarter and more becoming than the first batch which had been
uncompromisingly rejected; and Maud, slipping out by one door, was
quickly followed by Sybil through the other--whereupon Sue also rose,
and said, "Come, Leo".

Here then was Leo, small, white-faced, black-robed, the most pitiable
little object, almost a parody on the name of widow, dumped down in the
"Blue Room" to rattle like a pea in a pod in its capacious depths.

She was indeed accustomed to a luxurious bedchamber, but then it was a
different kind of bedchamber. At Deeside the morning sun poured in
through large, single-paned windows, lightly curtained; and its rays
were reflected by white woodwork clamped by shining brass, and wallpaper
that glistened.

Into her new abode neither sun could enter, nor would have met with any
response had it done so. She looked