o in, but did not tell the driver to
keep on past the house. It was not Mrs. Barker. She knew that very well.
In the next moment their carriage drew up at the door.

"Go on, Henry!" cried Mrs. Dinneford, leaning past her daughter, and
speaking through the window that was open on that side. "Drive down to
Loring's."

"Not till I get out, Henry," said Edith, pushing open the door and
stepping to the pavement. Then with a quick movement she shut the door
and ran across the pavement, calling back to the driver as she did so,

"Take mother to Loring's."

"Stop, Henry!" cried Mrs. Dinneford, and with an alertness that was
surprising sprung from the carriage, and was on the steps of their house
before Edith's violent ring had brought a servant to the door. They
passed in, Edith holding her place just in advance.

"I will see Mrs. Barker," said Mrs. Dinneford, trying to keep out of her
voice the fear and agitation from which she was suffering. "You can go
up to your room."

"It isn't Mrs. Barker. You are mistaken." There was as much of betrayal
in the voice of Edith as in that of her mother. Each was trying to hide
herself from the other, but the veil in both cases was far too thin for
deception.

Mother and daughter entered the parlor together. As they did so a woman
of small stature, and wearing a rusty black dress, arose from a seat
near the window. The moment she saw Edith she drew a heavy dark veil
over her face with a quickness of movement that had in it as much of
discomfiture as surprise.

Mrs. Dinneford was equal to the occasion. The imminent peril in which
she stood calmed the wild tumult within, as the strong wind calms this
turbulent ocean, and gave her thoughts clearness and her mind decision.
Edith saw before the veil fell a startled face, and recognized the
sallow countenance and black, evil eyes, the woman who had once before
called to see her mother.

"Didn't I tell you not to come here, Mrs. Gray?" cried out Mrs.
Dinneford, with an anger that was more real than feigned, advancing
quickly upon the woman as she spoke. "Go!" and she pointed to the door,
"and don't you dare to come here again. I told you when you were here
last time that I wouldn't be bothered with you any longer. I've done all
I ever intend doing. So take yourself away."

And she pointed again to the door. Mrs. Bray--for it was that
personage--comprehended the situation fully. She was as good an actor as
Mrs. Dinneford, and quite as