a story as well. It's most exciting! What's going to
happen next? Is Loveday going to get it back? Will she marry the man who
owns it? Or will somebody leave her a fortune? Or will she find a lost
will? How do stories generally end?" continued Diana, casting her mind
over a range of light literature which she had skimmed and half
forgotten.

Wendy disposed of each of the suggestions in turn.

"There isn't anybody to leave her a fortune; and what's the good of
finding a will when the place is sold? The present owner is a fat old
fellow of fifty, with a wife already, and, even if _she_ died, I
shouldn't think Loveday would want to marry him. He has three daughters
older than she is, and he's quite bald."

Diana looked baffled. Her romantic plan of restoring the fortunes of the
Seton family through matrimony certainly did not seem hopeful.

"I'm fearfully sorry for Loveday," confided Tattie. "I know something
about her, because some friends of ours live near her aunt. They say she
gets very much snubbed; her cousins make her feel it's not her own home.
She wants to go to college, but it's doubtful if she'll be able. Nesta
Erskine says Loveday is just _counting_ on a career. She wants to be
independent of her aunt."

"It must be horrible to be snubbed," commented Diana thoughtfully.

She had admired Loveday before, but now she looked at her room-mate with
new eyes. To Diana there was something fascinating about the idea of a
"penniless princess".

"Do your ancestors go right slap-bang back to the Conquest?" she asked
interestedly, while she was undressing that evening.

"Well, not quite so far as that," smiled Loveday, diligently brushing a
flaxen mane ripply with plaiting. "But I believe there were Setons in
the fourteenth century, long before they had the Abbey from Edward the
Sixth's commissioners. There are all sorts of stories and legends about
them, of course."

"What kind of stories? Do tell me! I'd just admire to hear. I'm crazy on
Border ballads and legends. Tell me, while I fix my hair."

"Well, there was little Sir Rowland. When he was only six years old his
father was killed in one of the battles of the Wars of the Roses. They
were Lancastrians, and the Yorkists seized his estate, and Rowland was
only saved from the fury of the conquering party by the devotion of his
nurse. She managed to hide him in a secret place in the tower till there
was an opportunity to escape, and then she got him away to her