a
comfortable one at that, boasting a fireplace in which blazed the
cheeriest of fires, for Martin was fond of comfort, and took a pride in
keeping her domain spick and span. Her face brightened as she saw the
girl standing in the passage, for Dreda was a favourite with all the
servants. Miss Rowena, they agreed, was "high;" but Miss Dreda was
"feelin'."

"Very feelin' was Miss Dreda!" She was always sorry for you, and wanted
to help. They bore her no grudge because the "wanting" frequently went
no farther than words. She was but young. Young things did forget. It
was entered to her abiding credit that she was "feelin'."

This afternoon one glimpse at the flushed, excited face was sufficient
to show that the girl herself was in trouble, and Martin threw open the
door to show the hospitable glow of the fire.

"Miss Dreda! Was that you standing by that door in the cold? You'll be
catching cold; that's what you'll be doing! I'm having a snack of cocoa
and buttered toast. Come in and have a bite by the fire."

Dreda hesitated. Buttered toast was incongruous--painfully incongruous;
for among the other desperate resolutions which had rushed through her
brain, a slow, determined starvation had held a foremost place. She
would turn with a sick distaste from the pleasures of the table; would
eat only the plainest of viands, and of them barely enough to keep
herself in life. She would grow thin and hollow-eyed, and her parents,
looking on, would repent their cruelty in sackcloth and ashes. But--the
buttered toast smelt wonderfully good!

"I'll come in and warm myself, but--I'm not hungry," said Dreda,
hesitating. But Martin did not appear to have heard. As her young
mistress seated herself by the fire, a stool was quietly placed by her
side, and on the stool appeared, as if by magic, a plate of toast and a
cup of cocoa.

Dreda's hand stretched out involuntarily; she ate and drank, and
reflected that, after all, as her father had lost money so unexpectedly,
it was only reasonable to suppose that he would recover it in a manner
equally rapid. She was sorry she had been cross. She would never be
cross any more. In the recovered days of prosperity it would be so
pleasant to remember how nobly she had borne herself in the hour of
trial!

CHAPTER FIVE.

Meantime in the schoolroom upstairs another blow had fallen, and Rowena
was quivering beneath the shock of discovering that in Miss Bruce's
absence it