here, perhaps it isn't a compliment I'm paying you, my
dearie, but in one sense it is."

"Do you really think I manage well?" asked the girl, an anxious tone in
her voice.

"Manage well? You manage beautiful. Your own mother, if she were alive,
couldn't do better."

"I can never forget my mother," replied Hester, tears rising to her
eyes. "Well, nurse, you will be very careful what you say to Nan. The
object of my life is to make my father happy. If I can do that, I am
content."

"You do, you do," replied the old woman. "No mortal can do more than
their best, and you do that. Now, good-night, Miss Hester."

Hester took up her candle and went away. Nurse stood and watched the
pretty young figure as it disappeared down the corridor.

"There," she said to herself as she began to prepare for her own bed.
"There's another victim. Don't I know what my mistress was, and don't I
know that Sir John's coldness and sharpness and no-heartedness just
hurried her into her grave? Never a bit of real hearty love could he
give to anyone. Just as just could be--righteous as righteous could be,
but hard as a flint. My mistress drooped and faded and died, and Miss
Hester will follow in her footsteps if I don't look after her.
Sometimes I wish the master _would_ marry again, and that he'd get a
tartar of a wife. He might think of another wife if things were a bit
uncomfortable here, but that they never will be while Miss Hetty is at
the helm. She's a born manager, bless her, with her gentle ways and her
firm words and her pretty little dignity. Miss Nan's business in life,
it seems to me, is to set places all in a muddle, and Miss Hetty's to
smooth them out again. Of course it's due to Miss Hetty to be mistress
of the Grange, but sometimes I fear the life is too much for her, and
she'll fret and fade like her mother before her; if I really thought
that, I'd set my wits to work, old as I am, to get a real _selfish wife_
for the master, who'd teach him a thing or two, for that's what he
wants."

At this stage in her meditations, nurse laid her head on her pillow and
was soon fast asleep.

The next morning promised a perfect day, and Hester, Annie, and Nan met
in high spirits in the breakfast-room. The post had not yet arrived, but
a letter was lying on Hester's plate.

"That's in dad's writing," said Nan, going up and examining it
critically; "now what's up?"

Hester took the letter and opened it. It contained a few brief words.