dow facing that walk, as she did so.
Casting her eyes upward, they met the gaze of Mrs. Arthur. Then, much
to the surprise of that lady, she paused and executed a brief
pantomime, as grotesque as it was mysterious.

Cora drew back in some astonishment, pondering as to whether or no the
old woman might not be partially insane, when Susan, the maid of the
romantic mind, appeared before her, and announced that the object of
her thoughts was in the kitchen, and begged that Mrs. Arthur would
permit her an interview.

Cora was still more surprised. "What can she possibly want with me?"
she asked herself, quite audibly.

"If you please, ma'am," volunteered Susan, "she said that it was
something important; and that she never would have put her foot inside
this house, begging your pardon, only for you."

Flattering though this statement might be, it did not enlighten her
much. So, after a moment's reflection, Mrs. Arthur bade the girl,
"show the old person up."

Accordingly, in another moment almost, old Hagar was bowing very
humbly before the lady with the silken flounces. Susan retired
reluctantly, deeply regretting that she could find no time to stop up
the key-hole with her ear, thus rendering it impossible for prying
eyes to peep through that orifice.

"Well, old woman," began Cora, rather inelegantly, it must be
confessed, "what on earth were you making such a fuss about, down on
the terrace? And what do you want with me?"

A close observer of the human countenance divine would never have
judged, from the small amount of expression that was manifest in the
face of Hagar, that her reply would have been such a very humble one.
"I want to serve you, dear lady."

The "dear lady" pursed up her lips in surprise. "You--want--"

"To warn you, madame."

Cora was dumb with astonishment, not unmingled with apprehension. What
had broken loose now?

"I am only a poor old woman, lady, and nobody thinks that old Hagar
has a heart for the wrongs of others. I said that I would never cross
John Arthur's threshold again; but I have seen your pretty face, going
to and fro through the village streets, and I knew there was no one to
warn you but me."

"Oh, you did," remarked Cora, not knowing whether to be alarmed or
amused, at the old woman's earnestness. "Well, old--what's your name?"

"Hagar, lady."

"Well, old Hagar, do you mean to tell me that I am in any particular
danger just at present?"

"Is the dove in danger when