ber yourself, that I
shall do my utmost to prevent the sort of things occurring which have
made you all so uncomfortable? I think you will soon see that Miss Irene
has as kind a heart as any other girl."

"I'm sure, miss," said James, almost whimpering, "the trouble I've had
already, and the anxiety and worry, not to speak of the pain, miss. Them
wasps, their sting is very sharp, and even my lady's blue-bag did not
remove them at once. And then the show I am, miss, in this respectable
house! But that is nothing to what poor cook felt when the toad poisoned
the bread. And there was Mary Ann, the second housemaid; Miss Irene
caught her and put two spiders down her back. Mary Ann has such a horror
of spiders as never was! Then, worst of all, there's poor Miss Frost,
such a patient lady, and she has swallowed insects instead of pills.
It's too awful to contemplate."

"It is very bad, but it won't happen again--at least I don't think so,"
said Rosamund. "Now, I want to see Miss Frost. Can you direct me to her
room?"

James took upon himself to perform this office, and in a few minutes'
time Rosamund was knocking at the door of Miss Frost's room. A very
feeble, timid, suffering voice said:

"Who is there?" Then the voice continued, "If it is you, Irene, the door
is bolted, and the blinds are down, and the shutters shut, so even if
you break the glass you cannot get in."

"It is not Irene. It is I, Rosamund Cunliffe. I want most particularly
to see you, Miss Frost."

Whereupon Miss Frost was heard getting out of bed and coming towards the
door. She was a very cadaverous-looking person, about forty years of
age, thin to emaciation, with small, light, frightened-looking eyes, a
long upper lip, and a great many freckles on her face. Her hair was thin
and dark, and was strained back from a lofty forehead. The moment
Rosamund saw her she took her hand.

"Please don't keep the door locked," she said. "And please unbar the
shutters and draw up the blinds, for it is a lovely summer's day, and
Irene won't do you any harm. I want to talk to you. May I?"

"I don't believe, my dear young friend," said Miss Frost, "that I am
long for this world. I feel those dreadful things even now creeping up
and down. The doctor says they are dead; but how can he look inside me?
I know they are alive. I know they are."

"I don't think they could be alive," said Rosamund. "I heard of that
trick being played on some one once before, and nothing