a
hysterical laugh. "See how easily it goes when you know the secret!"
and she deftly turned her key in two locks one after the other, let
down the mysterious facade of the affair, and pulled out an
extraordinary rack on which hung so many dresses and wraps that Mrs.
Benson lost her breath in surprise.

"Would you like me to carry some of your things into another room,
ma'am?" she asked. "They will never go in the wardrobe; it is only a
plain English wardrobe, ma'am. We have never had any American
guests."

"The things needn't be moved," said Robinette, "many of them will be
quite convenient where they are;--and now you need not trouble about
me; I am well used to helping myself, if you will be kind enough to
come in just before dinner for a moment."

Mrs. Benson disappeared below stairs, where she regaled the injured
boot-and-knife boy and the female servants with the first instalment
of what was destined to be the most dramatic and sensational serial
story ever told at the Manor House.

"The lid of the box don't lift up," she explained, "like all the box
lids as ever I saw, and me with Lady Chitterton for six years,
traveling constantly. The front of the thing splits in the middle and
the bottom half falls on the floor. A heathenish kind of tray lifts
off from its hinges like a door, and a clothes rack pulls out on
runners. 'T is a sight to curdle your blood; and the number of dresses
she's brought would make her out to be richer than Crusoe!--though I
have heard from a cousin of mine who was in service in America that
the ladies over there spend every penny they can rake and scrape on
their clothes. Their husbands may work their fingers to the bone, and
their parents be in the workhouse, but fine frocks they will have!"

"Rather!" said the boot-and-knife boy, nursing his injured thumb.

On the departure of Mrs. Benson from her room, Robinette gave a
stifled shriek in which laughter and tears were equally mingled. Then
she flew like a lapwing to the fire-place and lifted off a fan of
white paper from the grate.

"No possibility of help there!" she exclaimed. "Cold within, cold
without! How shall I unpack? How shall I dress? How shall I live
without a fire? Ah! here is the coal box! Empty! Empty, and it is only
the month of April! 'Oh! to be in England now that April's there!' How
could Browning write that line without his teeth chattering! How well
I understand the desire of the British to keep India and Sou