The days that followed were the quietest that this summer had brought to Hetherford. Not only had the _Vortex_ gone, but Wendell and Churchill had carried the other men off on the _Sylph_ for a long-planned fishing excursion, and the girls were left to their own devices. This was too common an occurrence to be looked upon as a great hardship; yet it was quite obvious, even to Nan, that they did not revel so much in their once treasured independence, and that the old-time simple pleasures had somehow lost their zest. There was something strangely amiss in the little colony. Jean, who had always been depended upon to set the ball rolling, and to keep everyone in good spirits, failed them utterly. She was so quiet and absent-minded, so unlike her usual self, that Eleanor began to fear that her surmises in regard to the letter had been incorrect after all. Miss Stuart's presence at the manor acted as a great restraint upon everybody. She did not adapt herself in the least to their quiet, humdrum existence, and maintained a stoical silence that was especially irritating. The weather was very depressing. A fine drizzling rain fell persistently, the sky was gray and leaden, and the roads and lanes were almost impassable with the mud. The dampness retarded Gladys' recovery, and she was fractious and troublesome. Poor Helen was in despair, for Miss Stuart was unreasonable enough to resent her spending so much time in the nursery, and took small pains to conceal the fact that she was almost bored to death. By Friday Aunt Helen was seriously fretting over her niece, for Helen was looking pale and tired and seemed quite incapable of coping with the anxieties of housekeeping, Gladys, and the entertainment of her difficult friend. On the afternoon of this day the rain ceased and Nathalie, in despair of any more interesting amusement, declared her intention to drive to the station to see the express arrive. "Not that anyone ever comes here," she said dolorously as she drew on her driving gloves. An hour later she burst into the drawing-room, her face radiant, her eyes twinkling. Helen sat before the low tea-table serving tea, Miss Stuart lounged in a huge armchair, while Jean was on her way between the tea-table and Miss Stuart, with a dainty cup in her hand. She paused, and looked expectantly at Nathalie. "Well, cheer up, girls, for I have some news at last. Who do you think arrived to-day?" Even Miss Stuart leaned forward in her chair, and lost something of her air of languor. "Don't ask tiresome riddles, Nathalie," pleaded Jean, "but tell us." "Mrs. Archer." Miss Stuart looked blank; Helen laughed softly, and Jean handed Miss Stuart her cup of tea with a disgusted expression on her bonny face. "You must, indeed, be in the depths to call that good news," she said scornfully. "I didn't say good news. I said news," Nathalie retorted triumphantly, "and in any case I think Mrs. Archer is a godsend after the monotony of the last few days."