o the crimson waistcoat,
which--now that her brother had thrown off his coat--she saw was her
own best silk sash wound round and round him.

"And father's great coat!" said Ruth.

"And the white horsehair stuff out of the fireplace," said Philip,
pointing to the empty grate. "It made a good beard, didn't it?"

"And the cap, Philip? Where did you get the cap from?" asked Mary.

"It's the lining out of my old straw hat," said Philip laughing. "Oh,
_didn't_ I take you all in!"

The next day the three elder children went back to school, and would
very likely have forgotten all about the new people at the Grange if
Tom and Norah had not written long letters from home telling them some
of the strange tales which were being told in the village about the
Grange tenants.

The foreign gentleman--Monsieur Gen as he was called--only left the
grounds once a week, when he drove to the station in a closed carriage,
and no information could be got out of the two old men-servants, who
were the only other people in the house besides the little girl and her
elderly nurse.

"Queer kind of folk too, them servants be," Giles, the baker, said one
day to Rose, the little maid who usually took the children for walks
when their mother was too busy to go with them. "There's one of them
jabbers double-Dutch, and the other talks Dutch-double--except the few
English words he's picked up since he's been here; and the names of all
the foods--he knows them right enough!" And Giles laughed aloud at his
own joke.

The children listened eagerly. They were always interested in hearing
anything about the people at the Grange, and Norah often lay awake at
night weaving strange fancies about the little girl who looked so sad
and who must lead such a lonely life.

October was nearly at an end, however, before they saw the little
foreign girl once more.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon; and Norah and Dan had gone to look
for chestnuts in the wood.

They often went out alone, these two, when Tom was doing lessons with
his father and Rose busy about the house; for, although rather a
harum-scarum little damsel as a rule, Norah was always careful of Dan;
and Mrs. Carew knew that so long as they kept away from the main road,
with its never-ending whir of motorcars, Norah could be trusted with
Dan anywhere; and the little girl felt very proud and happy as she
pushed Dan's invalid chair down the drive, and knew that her little
brother was in her