e to her--not even Mr. Vanderbridge."

"Oh, he never speaks to her. Thank God, it hasn't come to that yet."

"Then why does she come? It must be dreadful to be treated like that,
and before the servants, too. Does she come often?"

"There are months and months when she doesn't. I can always tell by the
way Mrs. Vanderbridge picks up. You wouldn't know her, she is so full of
life--the very picture of happiness. Then one evening she--the Other
One, I mean--comes back again, just as she did tonight, just as she did
last summer, and it all begins over from the beginning."

"But can't they keep her out--the Other One? Why do they let her in?"

"Mrs. Vanderbridge tries hard. She tries all she can every minute. You
saw her tonight?"

"And Mr. Vanderbridge? Can't he help her?"

She shook her head with an ominous gesture. "He doesn't know."

"He doesn't know she is there? Why, she was close by him. She never took
her eyes off him except when she was staring through me at the wall."

"Oh, he knows she is there, but not in that way. He doesn't know that
any one else knows."

I gave it up, and after a minute she said in a suppressed voice, "It
seems strange that you should have seen her. I never have."

"But you know all about her."

"I know and I don't know. Mrs. Vanderbridge lets things drop
sometimes--she gets ill and feverish very easily--but she never tells me
anything outright. She isn't that sort."

"Haven't the servants told you about her--the Other One?"

At this, I thought, she seemed startled. "Oh, they don't know anything
to tell. They feel that something is wrong; that is why they never stay
longer than a week or two--we've had eight butlers since autumn--but
they never see what it is."

She stooped to pick up the ball of yarn which had rolled under my chair.
"If the time ever comes when you can stand between them, you will do
it?" she asked.

"Between Mrs. Vanderbridge and the Other One?"

Her look answered me.

"You think, then, that she means harm to her?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows--but she is killing her."

The clock struck ten, and I returned to my book with a yawn, while
Hopkins gathered up her work and went out, after wishing me a formal
good night. The odd part about our secret conferences was that as soon
as they were over, we began to pretend so elaborately to each other that
they had never been.

"I'll tell Mrs. Vanderbridge that you are very comfortable," was the
last remark Hop