at hearing that
sacred name used with thanksgiving or reverence in Olympia's house, that
he dropped the silver tray and stood open-mouthed regarding the young
lady.

"Read it! read it! Oh, this will be Heaven to us. Remark, please, you
are to come with me and Eliza. Let us start by the very next train."

It was Lady Clara's letter, which, of course, contained an invitation
from the old countess. Clara had added a little hospitality of her own,
and suggested that Brown should come to Houghton for awhile, and give
her music lessons--she was getting so out of practice. As usual, the
girl had her way, and that letter was the result. But Brown's face grew
thoughtful as he read.

"What is the matter?" inquired Caroline, anxiously.

"But how are we to get there?"

All the anxiety that made Brown's heart heavy under this good news,
broke out in these words. Caroline's face clouded, and her voice
faltered.

"Let me call Eliza and Margaret; perhaps they can point out something."

She rang the bell, and directly both the maids were informed of the
dilemma they were in.

What was to be done? It was impossible to remain a day longer in
Olympia's house. The thought was intolerable. Margaret and Eliza stood
looking at each other in blank helplessness. What was to be done? All at
once Margaret gave her head a fling and brightened all over.

"Never mind," she said, with one of her old coquettish gestures. "I may,
I may--who knows?"

Without further explanation the girl went up-stairs, got out her most
becoming hat and feather--for she had never been restricted, like an
English servant, in such matters--wrapped a scarlet shawl over her
flounced dress, and, after practising a little before the mirror, came
down with a glittering parasol in her hand.

"Eliza, just come here and see if my pannier is looped properly," she
said, giving that article a shake as she looked in at the door.

Eliza came out of the room, grim as ever, and gave the pannier a
discontented jerk or two.

"Now what are you up to?" she inquired, curtly, for she was sometimes a
little scandalized at her younger sister's coquettish airs.

"Never you mind, only tell me one thing, honest. Look at me. Ain't I
about as good looking as I ever was? If I am, tell them to wait till I
come back."

"Don't ask me!" was the curt answer. "Of course they'll wait, because
they can't help it."

CHAPTER XXVII.

MAGGIE CASEY MEETS HER OLD LOVER.

Margaret Cas