ty smiling face--so like Monica's--and the bunch
of red roses that had saved the life of Sir Piers Courtenay. Was all the
good fortune of the race to be hers, and would none of it descend to the
namesake who so closely resembled her?

"If she could only come back and be of some use again!" sighed Lindsay.
"She ought to know every secret of this house."

"I wish we could make her speak and tell us," said Cicely.

At that moment a distant door banged, and a great gust of wind blew
along the gallery. Cicely started violently.

"Lindsay, did you see?" she exclaimed. "The picture moved in its
frame!"

"Nonsense! How could it?" said Lindsay, who had been looking the other
way.

"I tell you it did!"

"You must have imagined it."

It certainly seemed rather improbable. The portraits were all firmly
fixed in the panelled walls, and no breath of air could be expected to
penetrate behind them.

"It's almost as if she were alive," continued Cicely, "and just when we
were wishing she could talk! No wonder people make up tales about her. I
don't think I quite like it."

"How silly you are!" said Lindsay scornfully. "You might have seen a
ghost!"

"Well, it is queer! You needn't laugh at me so. I'm not going to stay
here any longer; I vote we go out into the garden."

Pictures that moved were rather more than Cicely had bargained for.
Mysteries were all very well in their way, but she began to feel it was
possible to have too much of a good thing. It was a distinct relief to
her to leave the gloomy old gallery, with its armour and tapestry, and
walk out into the fresh air and sunshine. There was still half an hour
to be disposed of before tea, and the two girls sauntered leisurely in
the direction of the kitchen-garden.

"I wish I knew where the boathouse used to be that Sir Piers wanted the
key for," said Lindsay.

"It was not very far away, I dare say. The river runs somewhere at the
bottom of those fields."

"I wonder if there's a path."

"I believe there's one at the end of the orchard. I saw Scott walking
down there once."

"Shall we go and see?"

"All right!"

The orchard was forbidden ground. Perhaps, though, the fact that they
risked a scolding, or even a mark for bad conduct, only made the
adventure more interesting. They ascertained first that Scott was safely
attending to his tomatoes in the greenhouse, then they dived hastily
between the rows of young apple trees. Cicely was right. At the far end