! It is so much nicer to be all together."

"I should like to go to Kronberg and all those queer places," said Lily,
the second girl; "especially to the place where Nora saw the ghost."

"I am quite sure you would not wish to _stay_ there," I replied. "It is
curious that you should speak of it just now. I was thinking of it this
morning. It was just two years yesterday that it happened."

We were sitting at afternoon tea on the lawn outside the drawing-room
window--my sister, her husband, Margaret, Lily, and I. Nora was with the
schoolroom party inside.

"How queer!" said Lily.

"You don't think Nora has thought of it?" I asked.

"Oh no, I am sure she hasn't," said Margaret. "I think it has grown
vague to her now. You know she spoke about it to us when she first came
home. You had prepared us, you remember, mamma, and told us not to make
too much of it. The first year after, she _did_ think of it. She told me
she was dreadfully frightened all that day for fear he should appear
again. But since then I think she has gradually forgotten it."

"She is a very sensible child," said my sister. "And she is especially
kind and sympathising with any of the little ones who seem timid. I
found her sitting beside Charlie the other night for ever so long
because he heard an owl hooting outside, and was frightened."

Just then a servant came out of the house, and said something to my
brother-in-law. He got up at once.

"It is Mr. Grenfell," he said to his wife, "and a friend with him. Shall
I bring them out here?"

"Yes, it would really be a pity to go into the house again--it is so
nice out here," she replied. And her husband went to meet his guests.

He appeared again in a minute or two, stepping out through the low
window of the drawing-room, accompanied by the two gentlemen.

Mr. Grenfell was a young man living in the neighbourhood, whom we had
known from his boyhood; the stranger he introduced to us as Sir Robert
Masters. He was a middle-aged man, with a quiet, gentle bearing and
expression.

"You will have some tea?" said my sister, after the first few words of
greeting had passed. Mr. Grenfell declined. His friend accepted.

"Go into the drawing-room, Lily, please, and ring for a cup and saucer,"
said her aunt, noting the deficiency. "There was an extra one, but some
one has poured milk into the saucer. It surely can't have been you,
Mark, for Tiny?" she went on, turning to her husband. "You _shouldn't_
let a do