"I, tell the master that?" said nurse, holding up her hands. "Much good it would be. He'd say back to me--`Nurse, who has done it? Until I find out who has done it, I shall suspect Betty Wren and Betty Wren must go out of the house. If she confesses I may forgive her, but if she sticks to it that she hasn't done it, out she goes, and without a character.' That's the master all over, and I must say he's about right. A thief ought to be punished awfully severe." Pen went and stood by the window. "I believe I have a bit of a headache," she said, after a pause. "I'll just go down to the garden and sit there in the shade. What time is father coming back, nurse?" "I suppose the usual time, about six. He'll be took up to see you, and he'll be pleased enough, I take it. You may as well stay with him now until next Saturday, when I understand he is going to join the young ladies." Pen made no reply to this. When she got into the passage she gave a deep sigh. When would Jim be back? Why had he not answered her letter? She passed his room, the door was ajar, but she did not go in this time. Jim was faithless, he was no better than the others. Indeed, he was worse. He had promised to help her, and then had not done so. She went into the garden and chose a shady seat under a tree, took up a book which she could not read, and then pressed her hand to her eyes. Perhaps she had fallen asleep; at any rate she found herself sitting bolt upright, and gazing straight before her. A great trembling took possession of her, and just for a moment she did not know what had happened. But coming down the path to meet her, was some one who looked very like a vision--some one slender, marvellously graceful, and all in white; a white dress, a white hat, everything white. The hat was tilted back from a broad brow, and the dark hair under it was rendered darker by the shade of the hat, and the eyes were large and misty and very beautiful, and the face was pale. The girl, for Pen soon discovered that it was only a girl, and not an angel, hurried when she saw Pen, and went towards her with outstretched hand. Pen rose, confused and puzzled. "Don't you know me? I have seen you before. I am Angela St Just. May I sit down for a little?" "Oh, please do," said Pen. How delighted Clay would be! How overpowered Mabel would be! Even Annie would be confused, and a little off her guard; but Pen was not confused, nor off her guard in the least. "Would you like the hammock?" she said, "or this seat? The hammock is most comfortable." "I will take the seat," said the young lady. She leant back and looked across the garden. "That is our tennis lawn," said Pen, pointing in the distance. "It used to be the old garden, with the queer dragons and beasts and birds cut out of the box trees. Doesn't it make a beautiful tennis lawn? Wouldn't you like to see it? Clay is so proud of it." "No, I shouldn't like to see it," said Angela very gently.