he medical profession,
there were probably countless cases of poisoning quite unsuspected."

"Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. "It
makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, there's
Cynthia!"

A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn.

"Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss Murdoch."

Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life and
vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I admired the great
loose waves of her auburn hair, and the smallness and whiteness of the
hand she held out to claim her tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she
would have been a beauty.

She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed her a
plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me.

"Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer."

I dropped down obediently.

"You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?"

She nodded.

"For my sins."

"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling.

"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity.

"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is terrified
of 'Sisters'."

"I don't wonder. Sisters _are_, you know, Mr. Hastings. They simp--ly
_are_! You've no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven, I work in the
dispensary."

"How many people do you poison?" I asked, smiling.

Cynthia smiled too.

"Oh, hundreds!" she said.

"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do you think you could write a few
notes for me?"

"Certainly, Aunt Emily."

She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me that
her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp, kind as she
might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it.

My hostess turned to me.

"John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We have
given up late dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster, our Member's
wife--she was the late Lord Abbotsbury's daughter--does the same. She
agrees with me that one must set an example of economy. We are quite a
war household; nothing is wasted here--every scrap of waste paper, even,
is saved and sent away in sacks."

I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the house and up the
broad staircase, which forked right and left half-way to different wings
of the building. My room was in the left wing, and looked out over the
park.

John left me, and a few minutes later I saw him from my window wal