than usual; nevertheless, the remembrance of the
quarrel of a few days earlier still rankled in Norah's mind, and the
resolutions of yesterday were too fresh to allow her to be satisfied
without a definite reconciliation. The first time they were alone
together, she burst into impetuous apologies. "Oh, Hilary, I wanted to
say that I'm sorry I was cross on Monday. I don't mind a bit about the
drawing-room; alter it in any way you like. Of course you know better
how things should be, after staying in London. I'm sorry I was rude,
but I did dust it, really!"

To her surprise, the tears rose in Hilary's eyes, and she looked
absolutely distressed. "Oh, Norah, don't! I'm sorry too. I didn't
think I had grumbled so much. But Miss Carr's house is so beautiful,
and when I came home--"

"I know. But it looks ever so much nicer in summer, when the doors are
open and the flowers are in bloom. If you like to move the piano, and
make it stand out from the walls, I'll give you my yellow silk for the
drapery. Aunt Amy sent it to me for a dress, but I've never used it."

"Thank you, Norah; it's awfully good of you, but I shall have something
else to do besides draping pianos for the next few weeks, I'm afraid,"
said Hilary dismally. "Mary has given notice!" And the poor little
housekeeper heaved a sigh, for Mary had been a model housemaid, and it
would be a difficult matter to replace her in this quiet country place.

"Mary given notice! Oh, how horrid! I hate strange servants, and she
has been with us so long. Why ever is she--" Norah checked herself with
a quick recollection of the events of the last week, but Hilary did not
shirk the unfinished question.

"She was vexed because I found fault. I felt cross and worried, and
vented it on her. I didn't realise it at the time, but I see now that I
was unreasonable." And to hear Hilary confess a fault was an experience
so extraordinary, that Norah sat dumbfounded, unable to account for the
phenomenon.

The threatened loss of Mary was too important a family event to pass
unnoticed in the general conversation. Lettice was full of
lamentations, and even Rex had a tribute to pay to her excellence. "The
big, strapping girl, who waited on me when I was laid up? Oh, I say,
what a nuisance! I wish she would come to us; she has such a jolly
good-natured face."

"If she came to you, I would never stay at your house again. I'd be too
jealous," said Norah dolefully. "