of the last
"attainted" Maitlands.

But now the chamber was pleasant and warm, the windows open to the air
and the song of the birds. Dimity curtains hung on the great poles by
the windows and stirred in the breeze, as if they had been lying for
half a century in dusky cupboards. Agnes Anne looked carefully to see if
the darning showed, and decided that not even her grandmother could spy
it out--how much less, then, the Doctor.

She was, however, annoyed that the tall, brass-faced clock in the
corner, dated "Kilmaurs, 1695," could not be made to go. But she had a
promise from Boyd Connoway that he would "take a look at her" as soon as
he had attended to three gardens and docked the tails of a litter of
promising puppies.

The Doctor bowed graciously over the hand of Miss Irma, and shook hands
gravely with Sir Louis, who a second time had rubbed his finger on his
black velvet suit, just to make assurance doubly sure.

The conversation followed a high plane of social commonplace.

"Yes," said Miss Irma, "it is true that our family has been a long time
absent from the neighbourhood, but you are right in supposing that we
mean to settle down here for some time."

Then she deigned to enter into particulars. She had her brother to bring
up according to his rank, for, since there was no one else to undertake
the charge, it fell to her lot. Luckily she had received a good
education up to the time when she had the misfortune----

"Ah," said the Doctor quickly, "I understand."

He said nothing further in words, but his sympathetic silence conveyed a
great deal, and was more eloquent and consolatory than most people's
speech.

"And where were you educated?" asked the Doctor gently.

"My father sent me to the Ursuline Sisters in Paris," said Miss Irma
calmly.

The Doctor was secretly astonished and much disappointed, but his face
expressed nothing beyond his habitual good nature. He replied, "Then
your father has had you brought up a Catholic, Miss Maitland?"

"Indeed, no," answered Miss Irma, "only he had often occasion to be away
on his affairs, and to keep me out of mischief he left me with the
Ursulines and my aunt the Abbess. At my father's death I might have
stayed on with the good sisters, but I left because I was not allowed to
see my brother."

"Then am I right in thinking that--that--in fact--you are a
Presbyterian?" said the Doctor, playing with the inlaid snuffbox which
he carried in his hand. The amou