.

"He means to be friendly," thought the heart-sick girl, with a
shudder.

When Palla got out she spoke pleasantly to him as she paid him, and
inquired about his father--a shiftless old gaffer who used, sometimes,
to do garden work for her aunt.

But the driver, obsessed by the fact that she had lived with the
"Queen of Rooshia," merely grinned and repeated, "Pretty soft," and,
shouldering her trunk, walked to the front door, chewing furiously.

Martha opened the door, stared through her spectacles.

"Land o' mercy!" she gasped. "It's Palla!" Which, in Shadow Hill, is
the manner and speech of the "hired girl," whose "folks" are
"neighbours" and not inferiors.

"How do you do, Martha," said the girl smilingly; and offered her
gloved hand.

"Well, I'm so's to be 'round--" She wheeled on the man with the trunk:
"Here, _you_! Don't go-a-trackin' mud all over my carpet like that!
Wipe your feet like as if you was brought up respectful!"

"Ain't I wipin' em?" retorted the driver, in an injured voice. "Now
then, Marthy, where does this here trunk go to?"

"Big room front--wait, young fellow; you just follow me and be careful
don't bang the banisters----"

Half way up she called back over her shoulder: "Your room's all ready,
Palla--" and suddenly remembered something else and stood aside on the
landing until the young man with the trunk had passed her; then waited
for him to return and get himself out of the house. Then, when he had
gone out, banging the door, she came slowly back down the stairs and
met Palla ascending.

"Where is my aunt?" asked Palla.

And, as Martha remained silent, gazing oddly down at her through her
glasses:

"My aunt isn't ill, is she?"

"No, she ain't ill. H'ain't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Didn't you get my letter?"

"_Your_ letter? Why did _you_ write? What is the matter? Where is my
aunt?" asked the disturbed girl.

"I wrote you last month."

"_What_ did you write?"

"You never got it?"

"No, I didn't! What has happened to my aunt?"

"She had a stroke, Palla."

"What! Is--is she dead!"

"Six weeks ago come Sunday."

The girl's knees weakened and she sat down suddenly on the stairs.

"Dead? My Aunt Emeline?"

"She had a stroke a year ago. It made her a little stiff in one leg.
But she wouldn't tell you--wouldn't bother you. She was that proud of
you living as you did with all those kings and queens. 'No,' sez she
to me, 'no, Martha, I ain't a-goin' to worry