ficantly at Margaret.
"Curiosity overcomes distaste!" she said. "Are you coming?"

"No," said Margaret. "I think I'd better not. I will slip away quietly.
But I shall see you soon again. I will run over this evening, perhaps;
and you must come over to Fernley whenever Mrs. Peyton can spare you. It
is very near, just across the park."

"Fernley!" repeated Miss Wolfe, pausing and looking at Margaret with an
altered expression.

"Fernley House, Mr. Montfort's place. That is where I live. Why--I have
never introduced myself all this time, have I? I am Mr. Montfort's
niece; my name is Montfort, too, Margaret Montfort."

"Oh, my prophetic soul! my aunt!" exclaimed Miss Wolfe. "I beg your
pardon; nothing of the sort. I am somewhat mad at times. Good morning,
Miss Montfort; I am glad to know you. To be continued in our next!"

She nodded, kissed her hand gravely to Margaret, and turning, followed
the maid up-stairs.

Margaret looked after her for a moment in amazement. "What a _very_
extraordinary girl!" she said. "She seemed to know my name. I wonder
how."

She paused, shook her head, then went soberly home across the park,
wondering how the new venture would turn out.

[Illustration: "AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED RED-CHEEKED AND
BREATHLESS."]

CHAPTER III.

AN ARRIVAL

"What can the dogs be barking at, Elizabeth?" asked Margaret, looking up
from the table-cloth she was examining. "I'm afraid they have got a
squirrel again."

"I thought I heard the sound of wheels, Miss," said the sedate
Elizabeth, who had just entered, her arms full of shining damask. "Just
as I was coming up the stairs, Miss Margaret. I told Polly run and see
who it was, and send 'em away if they was a tramp. It do be mostly
tramps, these days; Frances says she'll poison the next one, Miss, but
she always feeds 'em so as they go off and send all their friends."

At this moment Polly appeared, red-cheeked and breathless. A gentleman
was below, asking for Mr. Montfort, and she couldn't find Mr. Montfort
nowhere in the house; so then he said could he see Miss Margaret?

"Is it any one I know, Polly?" asked Margaret.

"I don't know, Miss Marget; I niver see him. A lame gentleman with a
crutch; he looks just lovely!" added Polly, with effusion.

"Miss Margaret didn't ask you how he looked, Polly!" said Elizabeth,
severely. "You let your tongue run away with you."

"Tell him I will be down directly, Polly," said Margaret.

"Now, Mi