dreth looked
hard at her, as if suspecting that this sugary sweetness covered some
ill design; but she read nothing but thoughtful serenity in Mrs. Vane's
fair face.

"When the General's dead, you mean? Well, that's as it may be. But I
can't wait for that, you know, ma'am. He's strong and well, and may live
for twenty years to come. I want my affairs settled now."

"Very well. Go to London, send me your address, and you shall have the
fifty pounds as soon as you are settled there."

"That won't quite do, Mrs. Vane. I want something down for travelling
and moving expenses. I have some bills to settle before I can leave the
village."

"You must be terribly extravagant!" said Flossy bitterly. "I gave you
thirty pounds at Christmas. Will ten pounds do?"

"Twenty would be better."

"I haven't twenty. I do not know where to get them. You must be content
with ten."

"Ten won't do," said Sabina obstinately.

Mrs. Vane made a gesture of impatience.

"Reach me that jewel-box over there," she said. "Yes; bring it close--I
have the key. Here are two five-pound notes. And here--take this ring,
this bracelet--they are worth far more than ten pounds--get what you can
for them."

"I'd rather have the money," said Sabina; "but, if I must put up with
this, I must. I'll be off in a couple of days."

"You had better not tell anyone before hand that you are going. Some
people might--think it their duty to interfere."

"All right--I'll keep quiet, don't you fear, ma'am! Well, then, that's
settled. If I go to London, you'll send me the fifty pound a quarter.
And it must be regular, if you please--else I'll have to come down here
after it."

"You will not have to do that," said Mrs. Vane coldly.

"Very well. Then I'll say good-bye to you, ma'am. Hope you'll get safely
through your troubles; but it seems to me that you're in an uncommon
risky position."

"And, if I am," said Flossy, with sudden anger, "whose fault is it but
yours?"

Sabina shrugged her shoulders, and did not seem to think it worth while
to reply. She walked to the door, and let herself out without another
look or word.

She knew her way about Beechfield Hall perfectly well; and it was
perhaps of set purpose that she turned down a passage that led past the
nursery door. The door was open, and Master Dick was drawing a
horse-and-cart up and down the smooth boards of the corridor. It was his
favorite playing-place on a summer evening. He stopped short when