The Fairchild Family," would certainly fall upon them. Halcyone,
from her earliest memory, had come down to dessert every night--except
at one or two pleasant moments when the measles or a bad cold had kept
her in bed. Half past seven o'clock, summer and winter, had meant for
her the quarter of an apple, two or three strawberries or a plum--and
almost always the same conversation.

Miss La Sarthe sat at the head of the table, in a green silk dress cut
low upon the shoulders and trimmed with a bertha of blonde lace. Miss
Roberta--sad falling off from dignity--had her thin bones covered with a
habit shirt of tulle, because she was altogether a poorer creature than
her sister, and felt the cold badly. Both ladies wore ringlets at the
sides of their faces and little caps of ribbon and lace.

Even within Halcyone's memory, the dining-room had lost some of its
adornments. The Chippendale chairs had gone, and had been replaced by
four stout kitchen ones. The bits of rare china were fewer--but the
portrait of the famous Timothy La Sarthe, by Holbein, still frowned from
his place of honor above the chimneypiece. All the La Sarthes had been
christened Timothy since that time.

The affair of the governess seemed to be troubling Miss Roberta. At
intervals she had found comfort in these denizens of the outer world,
and, free from the stern eye of Sister Ginevra, had been wont to chat
with one and another. They never stayed long enough for her to know them
well, and now this lady--the fifth within two years--had refused to
return. Life seemed very dull.

"Need I have any more governesses, Aunt Ginevra?" Halcyone said. "There
is an old gentleman who has bought the orchard house and he says he will
teach me Greek--and I already know a number of other tiresome things."

Halcyone had not meant to tell her aunts anything about Cheiron--this
new-found joy--but she reasoned after she heard of Mademoiselle's
non-return that the knowledge that she would have some instructor might
have weight with those in charge of her. It was worth risking at all
events.

Miss La Sarthe adjusted a gold pince-nez and looked at the little girl.

"How old are you, Halcyone?" she asked.

"I was twelve on the seventh of last October, Aunt Ginevra."

"Twelve--a young gentlewoman's education is not complete at twelve years
old, child--although governesses in the house are not very pleasant, I
admit"--and Miss La Sarthe sighed.

"Oh, I know it isn't!" sai