reply. She took herself to task
as she walked on. She had not been perfectly open with Michael, but then
he had no right to question her movements. She had spoken the truth; she
certainly had business in the town--several orders to give--before she
went to the Gray Cottage. Michael was her ally--her faithful, trusty
ally. No knight sworn to serve his liege lady had ever been more
zealous in his fealty. But even to Michael she did not wish to confess
that the greater part of the morning would be spent at the Gray Cottage.

Audrey had no idea that her cousin had guessed her little secret--that
he was smiling over it as he unfolded his paper. Her conscience was
perfectly easy with regard to her motives. Pure compassion for those two
poor children was her only inducement. There was no danger of
encountering the elder brother.

The windows of the great schoolroom opened on the terrace, and as Audrey
had passed to gather her flowers she had had a glimpse of a dark,
closely-cropped head, and the perfect profile that she had admired last
night, and she knew the new master would be fully occupied all the
morning. Audrey felt a little needle-prick of unavailing compunction as
she remembered her allusion to the Greek god yesterday.

'I wish I were not so foolishly outspoken!' she thought. 'I always say
just what comes into my head. With some people it would not matter--with
Michael, for example. He never misunderstands one's meaning. But poor
dear Gage is so literal. Clever as she is, she has no sense of humour.'

Here she paused at the grocer's to give her orders, but directly she
left the shop she took up the same thread again:

'I am always making resolutions to be more careful, but it never seems
any use. The thoughts will come tumbling out like ill-behaved children
just let out of school. There is no keeping them in order. I fancy Mr.
Blake is outspoken, too, when he gets rid of his shyness. I was so
surprised when he blurted out that little bit about his brother. He
looked so sad over it, too. I think I must have made a mistake in
supposing that he only cared for his mother. It was odd to make me his
confidante; but, then, people always do tell me things. He is Irish, of
course. Irishmen are always impulsive.'

But here another list of orders to be given at the ironmonger's checked
these vague musings.

Audrey was fully expected at the Cottage. She had hardly lifted the
latch of the gate before Mollie appeared in the