twice as much as you
speak."

"Yes, mum," replied Jane, who had long since taken the measure of her
mistress's foot. Then she went to the door, and was recalled to be told
that the cook was to make a cake. She was going again, and had to return
for instructions about some particular tea. Then there was the silver to
be especially polished, and various other matters to be gone into, until
Jane's head was whirling and her feet ached. She went down to the
kitchen and told the cook that the old vinegar bottle was more fractious
than usual. If only Mrs. Parry had heard her! But she thought Jane was
afraid of her, whereas Jane was meek to her face and saucy behind her
back. The old lady heard all the gossip in the neighborhood, but she
never knew the remarks that were made in her own kitchen.

However, it thus came about that Giles received a civil note from Mrs.
Parry, asking him to come to afternoon tea. His first thought was to
refuse, but he then reflected that if he wanted to learn all that had
taken place during his absence, Mrs. Parry was the very person who could
tell him. He knew she was an old cat, and had a dangerous tongue. Still,
she was much better than a newspaper, being, as her enemies said, more
spicy. He therefore accepted the invitation, and appeared in the little
parlor about five. He had been for a ride, and having put his horse up
at the inn, asked the old lady to excuse his dress. Mrs. Parry did so
with pleasure.

Giles was a splendid figure of a man, and looked a picture in his trim
riding-dress. The old dame had an eye for a fine man, and cast an
approving glance at his shapely legs and slim figure. But she frowned
when her eyes rose to his face. It was thinner than she liked to see;
there was not the old brave light in his eyes, and his fair moustache
had lost the jaunty curl, which, to her romantic mind, had made him such
a gallant lover.

Giles was one of the few persons Mrs. Parry did not abuse, for his good
looks and many courtesies had long since won her foolish old heart,
although she would never confess to it. But then, Mrs. Parry was softer
than she looked.

"Who had been taking the heart out of you, Ware?" she asked in her
gentlemanly way, which Giles knew and had often laughed at.

"No one," he answered gloomily, "unless you call Fate some one."

"I call Anne Denham some one," she replied coolly, "so you haven't found
her yet, poor soul!"

"No; I have looked everywhere. She has v