"I did not know that I had a grandmother—or an aunt—until to-day," said the child. "I am so astonished—the girls will be so surprised when I tell them I have a grannie and an aunt all this time in London. I always thought—grandmothers—were different." "Your grandmother is different to most people," granted her aunt. "And why has she never asked me here—nor written to me—why does she stare at me as if there were something odd about me? _Is_ there anything odd about me, Aunt Eva." "No indeed, my dear." "There must be some reason—do please tell me—why I never heard of you till to-day. I am twelve years old." "Your grandmother was very much vexed when your father married," explained Miss Gascoigne with obvious reluctance. "Why?" came the question, like a blow. "Oh, because he was a mere boy, only twenty-two, and she did not like your mother. My dear, you must never speak of her here," she continued, lowering her voice till it became a whisper. "Do you suppose that I shall ever come to a house where I may not speak of my mother?" blazed Angel. "There, I see you have your father's spirit!" exclaimed her aunt. "He and I were always such friends, I nearly broke my heart when he died. You will come here, Angel, I know—because you would like to give me pleasure—you will love me for his sake." "Oh, well—perhaps," acquiesced the girl, to whom her father's name conveyed no impression beyond that derived from a faded photograph of a fair youth in a gorgeous uniform. "Have I any more aunts or uncles?" "Two aunts—Lady Harchester and Lady Lorraine. You are not likely to meet them—they seldom come here. You and I are going to be great friends, Angel. You must write to me and I will write to you—and go and see you—often." * * * * * "Not much of the Shardlow about the child," remarked Lady Augusta complacently. "Quite a Gascoigne, or rather—I see a great resemblance to myself." Philip made no reply. He was unable to agree with this opinion, and put his hand to his mouth to hide a smile. "And now I want to ask your plans. What are your ideas? So far, I must confess, she does you credit." "She does credit to Miss Morton and herself. I believe I shall keep her at school till she is eighteen," he answered thoughtfully, "and then try and place her with some nice people who will take an interest in her and make her happy. Indeed, I am at the present moment looking out for some such family who will receive her for her holidays; it's rather rough on her to have to spend them at school."