"I suppose we ought to be," she said abruptly. "Do you think there is any danger?" She opened her eyes wide as she spoke. "I hope not; but, of course, she ought to be found. Then there is your mother--the great thing is to keep your mother from fretting." "We have managed that, for Marcia, old Marcia--I mean _dear_ Marcia,--is so clever about mother." "She is clever about everything. I wonder if you know what a very remarkable sister you have got." Marcia rose by leaps and bounds in both the girls' estimation. If she was remarkable, and if Angela, beautiful, bewitching Angela, said so, then indeed there must be something to be proud of, even in old Marcia. Ethel remembered how she had nicknamed her Miss Mule Selfish, and a nervous desire to giggle took possession of her, but she suppressed it. "I wish I could tell you," said Angela, "all that Marcia has been to me; how she has helped me. And then she is such a wonderful teacher. My aunt, Mrs Silchester, never ceases to lament her having left the school at Frankfort, I understand that she came here to help you girls." "Oh, no; she didn't," said Molly, her face becoming crimson, "she came home to look after mother." "You mean to help you to look after her, isn't that so?" "Yes, of course. Oh, dear Miss St Just, aren't you very tired? I know you are, even though you say in that pretty way that you are always pale, I know you are weary." "I'm all right, thank you; I really am." Just then Marcia entered the room. "Angela," she said, "we shall have supper presently, and afterwards you shall come up and see mother." "Oh, Marcia, do you think it well?" said Ethel, who looked very pretty with her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "I should like to go," said Angela. "Do you think I should harm her?" No; it would be impossible for such a creature as Angela to harm any one, even if that person were seriously ill; there was repose all over her, sweetness, tenderness, sympathy, where sympathy was possible. But Ethel and Molly, notwithstanding their efforts, did not feel that Angela truly sympathised with them. The moment Marcia came in they began to see this more clearly. "What are you doing about Nesta?" she said immediately. "If we don't know by nine o'clock, I must wire to father." It was just at that moment that there came a ring at the front door, a sharp ring. Ethel felt her heart beating; Molly also turned first red and then pale. "That sounds like a telegram," said Molly, and she rushed into the hall. It was; it was addressed to Marcia Aldworth. She tore it open and read the contents. "I'm all right; expect me when you see me. Nesta." There was no address; but it was plain that the telegram had been sent from Scarborough. Marcia sank on to the sofa. Molly bent over her; Ethel peered at the telegram from the other side. "There, didn't I say she was about the--" "Please, Angela, will you come with me into the next room?" said Marcia.