The earl had been absent six weeks, and Lady Doris had spent them very comfortably, with the help of Mattie. There was nothing in Mattie to be ashamed of. True, she was only a farmer's daughter; but for all that she was a well-bred girl. Her politeness and natural grace of manner came from that best and sweetest of all sources, a good heart. She might be deficient in some little matters of etiquette, but she was always true, sincere, kind and good. Not even in outward appearance could the fastidious Lady Doris find the least fault with her foster-sister, while her thoughtful consideration made her liked and esteemed by every one in the house. Indeed, there were some who compared the two unfavorably, and wished that the haughty Lady Doris had some of her foster-sister's gentleness. The suit of rooms were finished, and Doris had taken possession of them before the earl returned. The fair spring was coming; already the cuckoo had been heard in the woods; the first sweet odors of spring seemed to fill the air; the green buds were on the hedges--such a fair, sweet, odorous spring. It seemed to have touched the heart of Earle, the poet, and have turned his poetry into words of fire. He wrote such letters to Lady Doris that, if it had been in the power of words to have touched her heart, his would have done so; but it was not; and one morning, when the sun was shining more brightly than usual, when the first faint song of the birds was heard, Lady Doris received a letter to say that day the earl and countess would be at home. The earl gave many directions how his beautiful and stately wife was to be received; how the Anderley church bells were to ring, the servants be ready; how a grand dinner was to be prepared an hour later than usual, so as to make allowance for any little delay in traveling. "I trust everything to you, Doris," said the earl, "and I know that I may safely do so; you will keep your promise." He trusted well. Her energy and quickness were not to be surpassed. Every arrangement was made, every trifling detail attended to, and the astonished servants, looking at each other in wonder, owned that their young lady was a "regular locomotive" when she liked. Great fires were burning in the dressing-rooms, the bedrooms--every place where she thought a fire would be pleasant. "The Countess of Linleigh shall have the three things that I like best to welcome her home," she said, laughingly. "What are those?" asked Mattie. "Warmth, light, and flowers. Those are three grand luxuries, Mattie, and if people either appreciated them better, or cared more about them, the world would be a much more comfortable dwelling-place than it is now."