oods, and on Bobby's bare curly head, as he sat
busily playing beside Helena.

What was Helena thinking of? Lucy Friend would have given a good deal to
know. On the little table before Lucy lay two telegrams: one signed
"Geoffrey" announced that he would reach Bettws station by twelve, and
the "Fisherman's Rest" about half an hour later. The other announced the
arrival of Lord Buntingford by the evening train. Lord Buntingford's
visit had been arranged two or three days before; and Mrs. Friend wished
it well over. He was of course coming to talk about plans with his ward,
who had now wasted the greater part of the London season in this
primitive corner of Wales. And both he and Geoffrey were leaving historic
scenes behind them in order to spend these few hours with Helena. For
this was Peace Day, when the victorious generals and troops of the
Empire, and the Empire's allies, were to salute England's king amid the
multitudes of London, in solemn and visible proof that the long nightmare
of the war had found its end. Buntingford had naturally no heart for
pageants; but Helena had been astonished by Geoffrey's telegram, which
had arrived the night before from the Lancashire town he represented in
Parliament. As an M.P. he ought surely to have been playing his part in
the great show. Moreover, she had not expected him so soon, and she had
done nothing to hurry his coming. His telegram had brought a great flush
of colour into her face. But she made no other sign.

"Oh, well, we can take them out to see bonfires!" she had said, putting
on her most careless air, and had then dismissed the subject. For that
night the hills of the north were to run their fiery message through the
land, blazoning a greater victory than Drake's; and Helena, who had by
now made close friends with the mountains, had long since decided on the
best points of view.

Since then Lucy had received no confidences, and asked no questions. A
letter had reached her, however; by the morning's post, from Miss Alcott,
giving an account of the situation at Beechmark, of the removal of the
boy to his father's house, and of the progress that had been made in
awakening his intelligence and fortifying his bodily health.

"It is wonderful to see the progress he has made--so far, entirely
through imitation and handwork. He begins to have some notion of counting
and numbers--he has learnt to crochet and thread beads---poor little lad
of fifteen!--he has built not onl