hat branch of the Croftons she belongs," she went
on reflectively. "There was a man called Cecil Crofton in my second
brother's regiment a matter of forty years ago."

"She looks quite young," said Betty doubtfully.

"Old enough to know better than to get herself talked about the first
hour she arrived," observed Miss Pendarth grimly.

"I don't think she can have done that--"

"Not only did she bring a man with her, a Captain Tremaine,--but just
before he left they had some kind of quarrel which was overheard by two
of the tradespeople who were calling to leave their cards."

"How--how horrid," murmured Betty. But what really shocked her was that
Miss Pendarth should listen to that sort of gossip.

"It was horrid and absurd too, for the man had turned the key in the lock
of the sitting-room, and it stuck for a minute or two when one of them
tried to unlock the door in answer to the maid's knock!"

"What an extraordinary thing!"

"I could hardly believe the story, but now that I've seen Mrs. Crofton,
I'm not so very much surprised!"

"Then you have seen her?" Betty smiled.

"I've just had a glimpse of her," admitted Miss Pendarth grudgingly, "as
she came out of church, a day or two ago, with your sister Dolly."

"She's extraordinarily pretty, isn't she?"

"Too theatrical for my taste. But still, yes, I suppose one must admit
that she will prove a very formidable rival to most of our young ladies.
I'm told she's a war widow--and she certainly behaves as if she were."

"I don't think it's fair to say that!" Betty crimsoned. She felt a close
kinship to all those women who had lost someone they loved in the War.

"You mean not fair to the war widows?"

"Yes, that is what I do mean. Only a few of them behave horridly--"

There was a pause. Betty was trying to bring herself to introduce the
subject which filled her mind. But Miss Pendarth was still full of the
new tenant of The Trellis House.

"I hear that Timmy's dog gave her a fearful fright."

Betty felt astonished, well used as she was to the other's almost uncanny
knowledge of all that went on in the village. Who could have told her
this particular bit of gossip?

"I wonder," went on the elder lady reflectively, "what made Mrs. Crofton
come to Beechfield, of all places in the world. Somehow she doesn't look
the sort of woman who would care for a country life."

"Godfrey Radmore first told her of Beechfield," said Betty, and in spite
of herself, she