my missis will ask is, when you are coming in."

"Say," began Quentyns--he paused. "I'll write a line," he said; "you can
give it to your mistress. I shan't be in to dinner to-night, and cook
had better prepare tea for Mrs. Quentyns and Miss Merton, with fish or
chops or something of that sort. I'll write a line--I'm glad you
reminded me, Susan."

Quentyns went into his tiny little study, and wrote a few hasty words.

"DEAR HILDA: I have some important work to get through to-night,
and shall not be back early. I have the latch-key, so no one
need sit up. I shall dine at the club with Rivers. Go to bed
early if you are tired.

"Your Affectionate Husband."

This letter was handed to Hilda on her arrival. She was too excited and
too interested in getting Judy into the house, and showing her all the
pleasant arrangements made for her comfort, to read it at first; but
when her tired little sister was safe in bed, and Hilda had seen her
enjoying a cup of tea, with some toast and a new-laid country egg, then
she took Jasper's note out of her pocket.

She was in her own room, and she hesitated for a moment before she
opened it. She had a kind of premonition that there was pain in it. Her
home-coming had made her happy, and even while she was opening the
envelope of Jasper's letter she was listening for the click of his
latch-key in the hall-door lock.

He was always home in good time on Saturdays, and surely he would make
extra haste to-night in order to give his wife and his little sister a
hearty welcome.

Hilda's was the most forgiving nature in the world. During that scene
in the conservatory at Little Staunton she had lost her temper with her
husband, but she felt quite sure now that her hasty words must be
forgotten. As she forgave absolutely, so would he. Why had he written to
her therefore? Why was he not here? She pulled the note out of its
envelope, and read the few words that it contained.

It is not too much to say that her heart sank down, down, very low
indeed in her breast. She became conscious for the first time in her
life of that heart-hunger, that absolute starved sort of ache which had
so nearly wrecked Judy's little life. This was the first pang of pain,
but the ache was to go on and become worse presently.

Hilda was a very patient sort of woman, however, and it did not occur to
her to cry out or make a fuss. She read the note twice, then put it into
her poc