ever heard of the White Ladies?" whispered the Professor to
Mrs. Muldoon.

There was not much in the fairy line, one takes it, that Mrs. Muldoon
had not heard of and believed. Was the Professor sure?

The Professor gave Mrs. Muldoon his word of honour as a gentleman. The
"White Ladies," as Mrs. Muldoon was of course aware, belonged to the
"good people." Provided nobody offended her there was nothing to fear.

"Shure, it won't be meself that'll cross her," said Mrs. Muldoon.

"She won't be staying very long," added the Professor. "We will just
be nice to her."

"She's got a kind face," admitted Mrs. Muldoon, "and a pleasant way
with her." The good body's spirits were perceptibly rising. The
favour of a "White Lady" might be worth cultivating.

"We must make a friend of her," urged the Professor, seizing his
opportunity.

"And mind," whispered the Professor as he opened the door for Mrs.
Muldoon to slip out, "not a word. She doesn't want it known."

One is convinced that Mrs. Muldoon left the bathroom resolved that, so
far as she could help it, no breath of suspicion that Malvina was other
than what in Drusilla's holiday frock she would appear to be should
escape into the village. It was quite a pleasant little frock of a
summery character, with short sleeves and loose about the neck, and
fitted Malvina, in every sense, much better than the most elaborate
confection would have done. The boots were not so successful. Malvina
solved the problem by leaving them behind her, together with the
stockings, whenever she went out. That she knew this was wrong is
proved by the fact that invariably she tried to hide them. They would
be found in the most unlikely places; hidden behind books in the
Professor's study, crammed into empty tea canisters in Mrs. Muldoon's
storeroom. Mrs. Muldoon was not to be persuaded even to abstract them.
The canister with its contents would be placed in silence upon the
Professor's table. Malvina on returning would be confronted by a pair
of stern, unsympathetic boots. The corners of the fairy mouth would
droop in lines suggestive of penitence and contrition.

Had the Professor been firm she would have yielded. But from the black
accusing boots the Professor could not keep his eyes from wandering to
the guilty white feet, and at once in his heart becoming "counsel for
the defence." Must get a pair of sandals next time he went to Oxford.
Anyhow, something more dainty than those