“I’m quite well, thank you, miss,” she returned coldly, as her keen eye fastened on the girl as if to watch the effect of her words. “I had a good rest when the young ladies and gentlemen were at supper, for while the maids cleared up, I sat in the ‘little anteroom.’” “Yes, I saw you, and feared you’d take cold. Very glad you didn’t. How is Miss Beaufort? She seemed rather poorly last night” was the tranquil reply, as Jean settled the little frills about her delicate wrists. The cool question was a return shot for Dean’s hint that she had been where she could oversee the interview between Coventry and Miss Muir. “She is a bit tired, as any _lady_ would be after such an evening. People who are _used_ to _play-acting_ wouldn’t mind it, perhaps, but Miss Beaufort don’t enjoy _romps_ as much as _some_ do.” The emphasis upon certain words made Dean’s speech as impertinent as she desired. But Jean only laughed, and as Coventry’s step was heard behind them, she ran downstairs, saying blandly, but with a wicked look, “I won’t stop to thank you now, lest Mr. Coventry should bid me good-morning, and so increase Miss Beaufort’s indisposition.” Dean’s eyes flashed as she looked after the girl with a wrathful face, and went her way, saying grimly, “I’ll bide my time, but I’ll get the better of her yet.” Fancying himself quite removed from “last night’s absurdity,” yet curious to see how Jean would meet him, Coventry lounged into the breakfast room with his usual air of listless indifference. A languid nod and murmur was all the reply he vouchsafed to the greetings of cousin, sister, and governess as he sat down and took up his paper. “Have you had a letter from Ned?” asked Bella, looking at the note which her brother still held. “No” was the brief answer. “Who then? You look as if you had received bad news.” There was no reply, and, peeping over his arm, Bella caught sight of the seal and exclaimed, in a disappointed tone, “It is the Sydney crest. I don’t care about the note now. Men’s letters to each other are not interesting.” Miss Muir had been quietly feeding one of Edward’s dogs, but at the name she looked up and met Coventry’s eyes, coloring so distressfully that he pitied her. Why he should take the trouble to cover her confusion, he did not stop to ask himself, but seeing the curl of Lucia’s lip, he suddenly addressed her with an air of displeasure, “Do you know that Dean is getting impertinent? She presumes too much on her age and your indulgence, and forgets her place.” “What has she done?” asked Lucia coldly. “She troubles herself about my affairs and takes it upon herself to keep Benson in order.” Here Coventry told about the letter and the woman’s evident curiosity. “Poor Dean, she gets no thanks for reminding you of what you had forgotten. Next time she will leave your letters to their fate, and perhaps it will be as well, if they have such a bad effect upon your temper, Gerald.”