ingly overcame her scruples, and they mounted the stairs
together.

The sun was low and it was growing dusk when they entered a rambling
attic at the top of the house. It was filled with the heterogeneous
collection of odds and ends such as accumulate in any large
house--pieces of furniture, broken or too worn for use; pictures, some
with frames and some without; toys, a nursery chair, and who knows what
beside. Mrs. Goodman laid her hand on a rocking-horse which peered out
of the gloom like some weird monster, head upreared and snorting
fiercely.

"The Major told me nothing here need be disturbed," she said, with a
little quiver in her voice. "He was always so fond of his horse." But
in the latter part of her sentence it was clear that "he" was not the
Major. The old woman stroked the battered steed tenderly. "It doesn't
seem long since I saw him ride it," she went on; "sitting on it in his
little holland blouse as proud as a prince. He was very small then,
and as soon as he was old enough his mother gave him a pony. Gipsy,
its name was. I shall never forget his delight."

"Have you known him ever since he was born?" asked Philippa gently.

"Very nearly," was the reply. "I knew Lady Louisa before she was
married. My father was one of her father's oldest tenants. I was
married some years before my lady, and lost both my husband and child.
When Francis was born he wasn't very strong, and my lady engaged a
nurse for him with the best possible recommendations, but she was no
use and the child didn't thrive. My lady was very troubled about
him--he was her only one, you see--and when the nurse proved so
unsatisfactory she wrote to me and asked me to come.

"I remember her letter now. 'Will you come and help me to look after
him?' she wrote, 'for I would rather he had your affection, Jane, than
the wider experience of strangers. I know you will never neglect him,
and can trust you.' So I came. He was about a year old--a tiny,
weakly baby; but he throve wonderfully, although my lady used to say we
were like two hens with one chick. She was very wise and would not let
him be spoilt. His father died when he was about ten years old. He
was much older than Lady Louisa and had been twice married, as I think
I told you."

She paused for a few minutes and then resumed: "Francis was always so
happy. It was his nature. Very high-spirited, and as a child very
quick-tempered, but if he was angry it was just a