itors lately."

"Nothing of the sort!" said the lady, sharply. "I said the White Rooms;
Mrs. Cheriton's rooms."

Margaret stayed to hear no more. A stranger in the White Rooms! Aunt
Faith's rooms, which she could not bear to occupy herself, though her
uncle had urged her to do so? And such a stranger as this, with such a
voice,--and such a nose! Never! never, while there was breath to pant
with, while there were feet to run with!

Never but once in her life had Margaret Montfort run as she did now;
that once was when she flew up the secret staircase to save her cousin
from burning. In a flash she was in her own room--what had been her
room!--gathering things frantically in her arms, snatching books from
the table, dresses from the closets. Down the back stairs she ran like a
whirlwind; down, and up, and down again. Had the girl gone suddenly mad?

Ten minutes later, when Elizabeth, her eyes smarting with angry tears,
opened the door of the White Parlour,--Willis the choreman behind her,
grunting and growling, with a trunk on his shoulder,--a young lady was
sitting in the great white armchair, quietly reading. The young lady's
cheeks were crimson, her eyes were sparkling, and her breath came in
short, quick gasps, which showed that what she was reading must be very
exciting; what made it the more curious was that the book was upside
down. But she was entirely composed, and evidently surprised at the
sudden intrusion.

"What is it, Elizabeth?" asked Margaret, quietly.

"I--I--I beg your pardon, Miss Montfort!" said Elizabeth, whose eyes
were beginning to brighten, too, and her lips to twitch dangerously.
"I--I didn't know, miss, as you had--moved in yet. Here is Miss
Sophronia Montfort, miss, as perhaps you would like to see her."

The strange lady was already glaring over Willis's shoulder.

"What is this?" she said. "What does this mean? These rooms are not
occupied; I was positively told they were not occupied. There must be
some mistake. Willis--"

"Yes, there is a mistake!" said Margaret, coming forward, and holding
out her hand with a smile. "Is this Cousin Sophronia? I am Margaret,
Cousin Sophronia. Uncle John asked me to take these rooms, and I--I feel
quite at home in them already. Would you like the Pink, or the Blue
Room? They are both ready, aren't they, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Miss Montfort," said Elizabeth, "quite ready."

The strange lady's eyes glared wider and wider; her chest heaved; she
seemed a