, Frances--if you have so little
time to spare, you busy, busy creature, you can at least talk while we
eat."

Mrs. Passmore slipped her hand affectionately through Frances's arm, and
led her across the wide hall to another cool and small apartment where
covers were already placed for two.

"I am very glad of some lunch, Carrie," said Frances. "I left home early
this morning. I am not ashamed to say that I am both tired and hungry."

"Eat then, my love, eat--these are lamb cutlets; these pease are not to
be compared with what you can produce at the Firs, but still they are
eatable. Have a glass of this cool lemonade. Oh, yes, we will help
ourselves. You need not wait Smithson."

The footman withdrew. Mrs. Passmore flitted about the table, waiting on
her guest with a sort of loving tenderness. Then she seated herself
close to Frances, pretended to eat a mouthful or two, and said suddenly:

"I know you are in trouble. And yet I thought--I hoped--that you would
be bringing me good news before long. Is it true, Frances, that Philip
Arnold is really alive after all, and has returned to England?"

"It is perfectly true, Carrie. At this moment Philip is at the Firs."

Mrs. Passmore opened her lips--her bright eyes traveled all over
Frances's face.

"You don't look well," she said, after a long pause. "I am puzzled to
account for your not looking well now."

"What you think is not going to happen, Carrie. Philip is not likely to
make a long visit. He came yesterday; he may go again to-morrow or next
day. We won't talk of it. Oh, yes, of course it is nice to think he is
alive and well. Carrie, does your aunt Lucilla still want a companion?"

Mrs. Passmore jumped from her seat--her eyes lighted up; she laid her
two dimpled, heavily ringed hands on Frances's shoulders.

"My dear, you can't mean it! You can't surely mean that you would come?
You know what you are to auntie; you can do anything with her. Why, you
would save her, Frances; you would save us all."

"I do think of accepting the post, if you will give it to me," said
Frances.

"Give it to you? you darling! As if we have not been praying and longing
for this for the last two years!"

"But, Carrie, I warn you that I only come because necessity presses
me--and--and--I must make conditions--I must make extravagant demands."

"Anything, dearest. Is it a salary? Name anything you fancy. You know
Aunt Lucilla is rolling in money. Indeed, we all have more than w