"I think it's one of the cosiest houses I've ever seen," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe enthusiastically; "and it has an oak staircase nearly two hundred years old, Gentian. Come along in. I always envy the inmates of this house." They walked up the path, and Gentian was like a child in her ecstatic admiration over the low, quaint, old-fashioned room, with roomy cupboards in the thick walls, and oak beams across the ceilings. There were two sitting-rooms and a large kitchen downstairs and four sunny bedrooms above with a long attic in the roof. The furniture was in keeping with the house, the walls were all coloured a pale apple green, the doors and wainscotting dark oak. Gentian stood at one window overlooking a small garden and an apple orchard at the back. "There are English cottages and houses left like one reads of in books," she said; "how pretty I could make this!" "Would you like to try?" Thorold asked. He was sitting on the edge of an oak table, and looking at Mrs. Wharnecliffe, and not at Gentian as he spoke. "What do you mean?" the girl asked quickly. "Well, it seems waiting for some one, and Miss Ward thought it might suit you and her for a short time, until your plans were settled, or for longer if it suited you!" "And what may be the rent?" demanded Gentian, looking at him with surprise, pleasure, but also with a little defiance in her gaze. "We are in need of an organist," Thorold said slowly; "the present one has to ride over here every Sunday from the next parish, and he's an old man and he wants to give it up. If we could get hold of an organist, who would take the house in lieu of a salary, it would suit us down to the ground." "I hope you'll get one," was Gentian's cheerful response; "Waddy and I would not care to take a house and make it pretty, only to be turned out for some one else shortly." "But why shouldn't you be the organist?" said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, who had been keeping silent with some difficulty up to now. Gentian turned to her with laughing eyes. "And this is the plot which Cousin Thorold began to hatch with Waddy in London, and which put her in such a good temper. Do tell me the whole of it. Of course I was brought to see my gilded cage to-day. It really is a darling little cage, but I'm afraid it's too out of the way for my car. And it's—it's too near my thoughtful cousin." "Oh, don't think about me," said Thorold dryly, "I like to live my life alone I should not expect you to be running in and out. You might borrow a book occasionally, perhaps." "How kind!" said Gentian. "But you see I must earn money to buy clothes and food. This house won't provide that—and who would want to employ my car out here? I might drive into Winderball every day, certainly. I must think about it and let you know." A shadow of sadness came into her eyes.