re never even allowed in the kitchen at home."

"I see. You and your sisters were brought up like Countesses, wie
Grafinnen," observed Fraulein Pfaff drily.

Miriam's whole body was on fire... "and your sisters and your sisters,"
echoed through and through her. Holding back her tears she looked full
at Fraulein and met the brown eyes. She met them until they turned away
and Fraulein broke into smiling generalities. Conversation was released
all round the table. Emphatic undertones reached her from the English
side. "Fool"... "simply idiotic."

"I've done it now," mused Miriam calmly, on the declining tide of her
wrath.

Pretending to be occupied with those about her she sat examining the
look Fraulein had given her... she hates me.... Perhaps she did from
the first.... She did from the first.... I shall have to go... and
suddenly, lately, she has grown worse....

CHAPTER VIII

1

Walking along a narrow muddy causeway by a little river overhung with
willows, girls ahead of her in single file and girls in single file
behind, Miriam drearily recognised that it was June. The month of roses,
she thought, and looked out across the flat green fields. It was not
easy to walk along the slippery pathway. On one side was the little grey
river, on the other long wet grass repelling and depressing. Not far
ahead was the roadway which led, she supposed to the farm where they
were to drink new milk. She would have to walk with someone when they
came to the road, and talk. She wondered whether this early morning walk
would come, now, every day. Her heart sank at the thought. It had been
too hot during the last few days for any going out at midday, and she
had hoped that the strolling in the garden, sitting about under the
chestnut tree and in the little wooden garden room off the saal had
taken the place of walks for the summer.

She had got up reluctantly, at the surprise of the very early gonging.
Mademoiselle had guessed it would be a "milk-walk." Pausing in the
bright light of the top landing as Mademoiselle ran downstairs she had
seen through the landing window the deep peak of a distant gable casting
an unfamiliar shadow--a shadow sloping the wrong way, a morning shadow.
She remembered the first time, the only time, she had noticed such a
shadow--getting up very early one morning while Harriett and all the
household were still asleep--and how she had stopped dressing and gazed
at it as it stood there cool an