"No, no, he has explained it all. It appears that the big account for repairing one of our small farms was overlooked. I certainly thought I had paid it; but my memory is not good, and I forget so. And the builder is pressing for the money, and Monsieur Bouverie has settled it up, and this hundred francs is the balance left. Of course, he congratulates me upon having this heavy bill settled, but I really had forgotten its existence; and it seems that I have lost my watch, and am no richer than I was. I fear our little visit to Orleans must be given up, unless—well—I will speak to Guy about it. He dines here this evening. Oh, what a miserable thing it is to be so poor!" "Never mind Aunt Cecily. I am quite happy here. I don't want to go to Orleans. I love the country at this time of year." "But not if it rains, as it is doing now," said her aunt, looking out at the rain which was driving against the windows; "it has kept us in now three days, and prevented us from going to Madame Nicholas." "We'll have a game of 'Colorado' together," said Adrienne cheerfully. She was an adept at games from "Chess" to "Snap." She had even tried to entice her aunt into the billiard-room, which was an unused, dreary apartment, but this the Countess had firmly declined to enter. She did not mind an occasional game of any sort, but "Bridge" was her hobby, and she could not very often get the requisite number for it. Adrienne's sunny temper and habitual cheerfulness was having a good effect upon her; she was altering her sedentary life, and was really taking an interest in the garden. Adrienne was making many improvements to the flower part of it, digging and weeding and planting; and the Countess looked on at first with some amusement, and then with dawning interest. The days did not seem so long now with this bright young niece, and it was only after a visit from the notary, that she was plunged into tears and depression. Upon this particular evening they had a very bright dinner table. Adrienne began telling her aunt about her Uncle Tom's aversions to wet days, and the guiles and wiles with which she beset him to keep him happy. Guy was reminiscent too, and his experiences in an old Indian bungalow during the monsoon made Adrienne very merry. When they adjourned to the salon they gathered round the wood fire, and then the Countess said to her stepson: "I want Adrienne to see Orleans; she would like to see it too. Only for a few days; don't you think it could be managed? We ought to let her see something of our country. Of course it is a question of expense—but it would not cost much for a short time." "I think we can manage it," said Guy, smiling across at Adrienne. The girl's cheeks flushed. "Oh, no," she cried, "I am content with this, Aunt Cecily. I will not put you to any extra expense. It would make me miserable." "Not at all," said Guy cheerfully; "your aunt has plenty of ready money at present. It is a good opportunity."