dmay was a very old friend of the Misses Scarlett.

At Number 9 Market Square Place--that was the name of the short row of
houses I have described--some six months or so before the date at which
I think this story may really be said to begin, there had been an
arrival one evening.

It was late October: the days were drawing in; it was almost dark when
the fly from the two-miles-off railway station--I should have explained
that there was no station at Thetford; the inhabitants had petitioned
against the railway coming near them, and now their children had to
suffer the inconvenience of this shortsightedness as best they
might--drew up at Miss Mildmay's door, and out of it stepped four
people--three children, and a young man scarcely more than a boy. There
were two girls, looking about twelve and fourteen, a little fellow of
six or seven, and the young man.

They were all in mourning, and they were all very silent, though in the
momentary delay before the door was opened, the eldest member of the
party found time to whisper to the girls a word or two of encouragement.

'Try to be cheery, darlings,' he said. 'There's nothing to be afraid of,
you know.'

'I'm not afraid, Uncle Marmy,' replied the elder; 'I'm only _awfully_
dull. If--oh, if Francie and I were old enough for you to be going to
take us out to papa and mamma. Oh, if only'----

'Hush,' whispered Uncle Marmy. He looked young to be an uncle, younger
still to be, as he was, a full-fledged lieutenant in the 200th. 'Hush,
dear,' as the door opened.

Miss Mildmay was at home--it would have been strange had she not been
so, considering that she had known for quite a week the exact day and
hour at which her guests were expected. But it would have seemed less
strange and more natural had she been there in the hall, hurrying
forward to meet them, instead of waiting, to all appearance calmly
enough, in the long bare drawing-room, into which the parlour-maid at
once ushered them. She was a small woman, neat and pleasing in
appearance, and her manner was sufficiently cordial as she came forward;
though the reverse of demonstrative, it was dry rather than cold.

'You are very punctual,' she said as she kissed the children and shook
hands with their young escort, saying as she did so, 'Mr Denison, I
presume?'

'Yes,' he replied; adding in a cheerful tone, 'it is a case of
introducing ourselves all round. You have never seen my--"our" I may
say--nieces and nephew bef