eplaced by schoolgirl
possessions. Here she kept her tennis racket, her hockey stick, her
camera and photographic materials, her collections of stamps, crests,
and picture postcards; there was a table where she could use paste or
glue, or indulge in various sticky performances forbidden in the
dining-room, and a cupboard where oddments could be stored without the
painful necessity of continually keeping them tidily arranged. She could
try experiments in sweet making, clay modelling, bookbinding, or any of
the other arts and crafts that were represented at the annual school
exhibition; in fact, it was a dear, delightful "den", where she could
conduct operations without being obliged to move her things away, and
might make a mess in defiance of Martha's chidings.

Dorothy often took a peep into her sanctum on her return from Avondale,
but to-day she ran straight to her bedroom. She was anxious to finish
tea and have a talk with Aunt Barbara. She felt she could not rest until
she had mentioned Agnes Lowe's remarks, and either proved or disproved
their truth. It was not a question that she could raise, however, when
Martha was coming into and going out of the dining-room with hot water
and toast; and it was only after she had cajoled Miss Sherbourne to the
privacy of the summer-house, and had related her other school woes, that
the girl ventured to broach the subject.

"I know it's nonsense, Auntie, but I thought I'd like to tell you, all
the same," she concluded, and waited for a denial with a look of anxiety
in her eyes that belied her words.

Miss Sherbourne did not at once reply. Apparently she was considering
what answer to make.

"I knew you would ask me this some day, Dorothy," she said at last. "It
seemed unnecessary for you to know before, but you are growing older so
fast that it is time you learnt your own story."

Dorothy turned her face sharply away. She did not want even Aunt Barbara
to see how her mouth was quivering.

"Is it true, then?" she asked, in a strangled voice.

"Yes, dear child. In a sense it is all absolutely true."

CHAPTER III

A Retrospect

More than thirteen years before this story begins, Miss Barbara
Sherbourne happened to be travelling on the Northern Express from
Middleford to Glasebury. She had chosen a corner of the compartment with
her back to the engine, had provided herself with books and papers, had
ordered a cup of afternoon tea to be brought from the restaurant