t discovery which
had been made produced but little difference in the house. The servants
had, indeed, been informed of the change in the position of the young
secretary. It was also understood that she was to have things pretty much
her own way. It was moreover tacitly admitted that almost unlimited
arrears of filial privilege were due to the newly-recovered daughter of
the house; and she herself evidently felt that the arrears of filial duty
lying to her charge were quite equal in amount. "The Golden Shoemaker"
regarded his new-found child with a very tender love; and even Miss Jemima
manifested towards her an indulgent, if somewhat prim, affection. The
gentle affectionateness of the girl towards both her father and her aunt
was beautiful in the extreme. Yet, even towards Miss Jemima, she was
delightfully free from constraint; and it would have been difficult to
decide whether to admire more the loving familiarity of the niece, or the
complaisancy of the aunt.

In the matter of the secretaryship Marian was firmness itself. "Cobbler"
Horn wished her to give it up; and Miss Jemima was shocked at the idea
that she should propose to retain it for a single day. But she dismissed
their remonstrances with a fine scorn. What did they take her for? Was
she any less fit for the post of secretary than she had been before? Her
duties had been a pleasure from the first; they would afford her greater
delight than ever now. And why should they bring in a stranger to pry into
their affairs? They might give her more salary, if they liked--and here
she laughed merrily; but she wasn't going to give up the work she liked
more than anything else in the world.

One perplexing question yet remained unsolved--What had happened to Marian
between the day when she had left home and the time when she had been
found by Mr. and Mrs. Burton? The girl's own vague memories of that
unhappy period, together with the condition in which she had been found,
indicated that she had fallen into the hands of bad characters of some
kind. Was the mystery ever to be fully solved? To this question the course
of events brought very speedily a complete reply.

One evening, about a fortnight after the last-recorded events, an elderly
tramp was sitting against a haystack upon some farm premises, at no great
distance from the town of Cottonborough. His age might be sixty, or,
allowing for the rough life he had led, something less. He looked jaded
and unwell. The day