ss Ethel's death, that she was actually indifferent
to him for the moment.

"Do you think I ought to go for Aunt Creddle?" she said tonelessly.
"They will want some one to help."

He did not answer at once, looking at her with a harassed expression,
as if he scarcely was aware of what she said. He had a strained and
haggard look which sat so oddly on his firm-fleshed, strong-featured
face, but she knew it was not produced by grief for Miss Ethel. There
was a little leap of the heart, then dull apathy again. Of course it
was the money troubles which everybody seemed to know about----

She was about to repeat the question about Aunt Creddle, when Laura
came out of the room, and Godfrey immediately said with an air of
relief: "Oh, here is Miss Temple. She will be able to tell you better
than I can."

Laura paused, and for a moment the two girls stared at each
other--interrogating, blaming, excusing--what was it? Anyway, it was
over in a flash. The next second Caroline felt it was all imagination,
for Laura came forward as frankly as usual, though her kind eyes were a
little swollen with tears.

"What a good idea, Miss Raby," she said. "Mrs. Creddle is such a
comfortable person when one is in trouble. I'm sure Mrs. Bradford will
be glad to have her."

"I'll come back as soon as I have let Lillie know, if there is anything
I can do. I can easily get some other girl to take my place," said
Caroline.

"No, thank you. Really, there is nothing you can do," said Laura.
"You see, there is the nurse and Miss Panton, and myself; besides your
aunt, if she comes. We should only run over each other."

Laura's voice was no less pleasant than before, but Caroline felt
dismissed. The vague impression of that first, odd moment became
startlingly vivid again. But even now she could not be sure that it
was not all imagination--the effect of her own self-consciousness,
after what had passed between herself and Laura's lover.

As she walked down the drive she saw the jobbing gardener had returned
and was continuing to lay sods on the ground where the privet hedge had
been. The thought passed through her mind that it looked like a new
grave fresh sodded. Then she began to plan in her mind what she should
say to Aunt Creddle, and to picture how that good-hearted woman would
take it. At last she remembered her declaration only a few hours
ago--could it be only a few hours ago?--that she would never enter
Uncle Creddle'