The incident, though of the most casual and briefest, gave a new direction to Miss Verity's thought. It pleased and intrigued her, bringing a pretty blush to her thin cheeks. "Who and what can he be?" she said to herself. "Where can I have seen him before?" And the blush deepened. "I must really describe him to Charles and find out who he is." This monologue brought her as far as the front door, at which, it may be added, she--though by no means impatient--did in point of fact ring twice before the man-servant answered it. Although Mr. Hordle had the reputation of "being fond of his joke" in private life, in his official capacity his manner offered a model of middle-aged sedateness and restraint. To-day neither humour nor reserve were in evidence, but a harassed and hunted look altogether surprising to Miss Verity. He stared at her, stared past her along the drive, before attempting to usher her into the hall and relieve her of her umbrella and her cloak. "Sir Charles doesn't expect me, Hordle," she said. "But hearing Miss Damaris was unwell I came over from Paulton Lacy at once." "Quite so, ma'am. Sir Charles has not left his room yet. He did not reach home till late, and he sat up with Miss Damaris the rest of the night." "Oh! dear--did he? Then, of course, I wouldn't disturb him on any account, Hordle. I had better see Miss Bilson first. Will you tell her I am here?" "I can send Laura to enquire, ma'am. But, I doubt if Miss Bilson, will care to come downstairs at present." "She is with Miss Damaris?" "No, ma'am, Miss Bilson is not with Miss Damaris." Hordle paused impressively, sucking in his under lip. "If I might presume to advise, ma'am, I think it would be wise you should see Miss Bilson in the schoolroom--and go up by the back staircase, ma'am, if you don't object so as to avoid passing Miss Damaris' bedroom door. I should not presume to suggest it, ma'am, but that our orders as to quiet are very strict." In this somewhat ignominious method of reaching her objective Miss Verity, although more and more mystified, amiably acquiesced--to be greeted, when Hordle throwing open the schoolroom door formally announced her, by a sound closely resembling a shriek. Entrenched behind a couple of yawning trunks, a litter of feminine apparel and of personal effects--the accumulation of a long term of years, for she was an inveterate hoarder--encumbering every available surface, the carpet included, Theresa Bilson stood as at bay.