hus reproved, the housekeeper did her best to conjure up a more
cheerful expression; and managed presently to shake Toni's cold little
hand with a respectful word or two; after which Owen discovered that it
was high time to go.

Five minutes later Toni was snugly packed into the car again; and Owen
was about to take his seat when he remembered that he had left the
typewritten sheets in the housekeeper's room.

"I'll run back for them, Toni." He jumped down from the step. "I won't
be a moment. You don't mind waiting?"

"Of course not!" She smiled up at him with dewy eyes. "Don't hurry--it's
so lovely here in the dusk--the flowers smell so sweet."

Re-entering the house, Owen ran down the passage with hasty feet. Mrs.
Blades, who had a tendency to what she called "chronical brownkitis,"
had not ventured to brave the night air; and Owen found her still
regarding the Little Ladies, who burned trimly on the tray before her.

"All right, Mrs. Blades--I've only left some papers!" He snatched them
up as he spoke, and crammed them into the pocket of his leather coat.
"That's all--now I'm really off."

He patted her carelessly on the shoulder as he passed her; but to his
surprise she put out a veined hand to stay his progress.

"Mr. Owen"--her voice shook--"do you really mean that you're going to
marry the young lady?"

"Of course, Blades." Unconsciously Owen pulled himself together. "Why
should I say such a thing if I did not mean it?"

"Because..." the old woman faltered "... Miss Gibbs ain't the sort of
lady you ought to marry. She ... she's not like the other lady you were
going to bring here as mistress of Greenriver ... the one as was
presented at Court with all them lovely feathers in her hair."

An expression such as she had never seen before crossed Owen's face. He
shook off her hand impatiently.

"Oh, you're an old silly, Blades." His voice was grating. "Miss Gibbs is
a thousand times more suitable to be the mistress of Greenriver.
The--the other lady thought very small beer of us all down here--she
wasn't our sort, I assure you!"

"Neither is this one." The old woman stuck to her guns with the
obstinacy of age. "Mr. Owen, I remember your father bringing home his
bride--a girl she was, only eighteen--but the highest lady in the land
couldn't have been evened to her. Miss Gibbs is pretty and a good girl,
I'm sure, but--but she ain't like your mother, Mr. Owen; and you ought
to look higher when you marry tha