nd there is a girl
called Antonia coming with her--her daughter, and--and Antonia will live
at the Grange in the future, and Annie, I cannot realise it; oh, Annie,
I cannot bear it."

"You poor darling," said Annie. She put her arm round Hester's neck and
kissed her hot cheeks.

"What a horrid old man Sir John is," murmured Annie to herself; "what in
the world is he making a goose of himself for?"

Aloud she said in a faint voice, "Oh, I am bitterly sorry for you. I
don't know what I'd do to my dear old rough-and-ready father if he dared
to give me another mother. And Hetty, Hetty, if these new people are
coming on Saturday, must I go away?"

"No, of course not, Annie; it would make me much more wretched even than
I am now not to have you in the house; oh, I really don't know how I
dare tell Nan; she is so excitable, and Mrs. Martin has put her against
stepmothers already."

"It doesn't matter half as much for her," said Annie, "for she will be
at school most of the time. Would you like me to tackle her? I think I
can get her to behave with outward propriety at least."

"I wish you would tell her," said Hester.

"Very well, I'll search for her right away; and shall I send Molly to
you?"

"Dear Molly; yes, I'd rather see her than anyone."

"I'll fly round and tell her you're here," replied Annie.

She had now a reason for joining the group on the lawn, which not even
Nora's frantic wavings of the hand to her to keep away could prevent her
attending to.

"Molly," she said, not coming too near, but shouting from a little
distance; "Hester is on the lawn at the back of the house and wants
particularly to see you for a minute or two."

Molly stood up and shook out her crumpled holland frock.

"Very well," she said, "I'll go to her."

"Stay here, Guy," she continued, laying her hand on her brother's
shoulder. "I won't stay long with Hetty, but she would think it unkind
if I did not tell her. I wonder if she has heard anything. I won't be
long away, for we must go back to the Towers before lunch, in order to
be sure to be in time to meet mother."

Molly went slowly away, her poor dejected little figure showing only too
plainly the weight of sad care which filled her heart.

Hester Thornton was, however, for once so self-centred that she could
think of no sorrow but her own. She noticed nothing particular in
Molly's lagging step, and guessed of no special sorrow in her
tear-dimmed brown eyes.

Hester ran