As his small black figure disappeared up the walk Doris appeared at the kitchen door. She also looked cheerful, yet there was a shade of anxiety in her expression as she glanced up the walk. "He says he is going away," she murmured. "The shock of Miss Hermione's illness was too much for him, poor man! and he does not seem to consider how lonesome I will be. If only he had asked me to go with him! But then I could not have left the young ladies; not while they stick to this old horror of a house. What is it, Miss Emma?" "A four-leaved clover! one, two, _three_ of them," cried her young mistress from the lawn at the side of the house. "We are in luck! Times are going to change for us all, I think." "The best luck we can have is to quit this house forever," answered Doris, with a boldness unusual on her lips. "Ah," returned Emma, with her spirits a little dashed, "I cannot say about that, but we will try and be happy in it." "Happy in it!" repeated Doris, but this time to herself. "I can never be happy in it, now I have had my dreams of pleasure abroad." And she left the kitchen door and began her slow walk towards the end of the garden. Arrived at the place where Huckins waited for her, she stopped. "Good afternoon," said she. "Pleasant strolling under these poplars." He grunted and shook his head slowly to and fro. "Nothing is very pleasant here," said he. "I have stood it as long as I can. My nieces are good girls, but I have failed to make them see reason, and I must leave it now to these two lovers of theirs to do what they can." "And do you think they will succeed? That the young ladies will be influenced by them to break up their old habits?" This was what Huckins did think, and what was driving him to extremity, but he veiled his real feelings very successfully under a doleful shake of the head. "I do not know," said he. "I fear not. The Cavanagh blood is very obstinate, very obstinate indeed." "Do you mean," cried Doris, "that they won't leave the house to be married? That they will go on living here in spite of these two young gentlemen who seem to be so fond of them?" "I do," said he, with every appearance of truth. "I don't think anything but fire will ever drive them out of this house." It was quietly said, almost mournfully, but it caused Doris to give a sudden start. Looking at him intently, she repeated "Fire?" and seemed to quake at the word, even while she rolled it like a sweet morsel under her tongue. He nodded, but did not further press the subject. He had caught her look from the corner of his eye, and did not think it worth while to change his attitude of innocence. "I wish," he insinuated, "there was another marriage which could take place." "Another marriage?" she simpered. "I have too much money for one to spend," said he. "I wish I knew of a good woman to share it."