The old woman sank into a chair, detached her bonnet strings and white wig, took off her shawl, then, getting up, stepped out of her widespreading gown. Miss Gastonguay looked around. Her first sensation was not one of bitter shame and disgrace, but rather one of dull surprise. Was that old man her brother? He was doubled up in a paroxysm of coughing. When he recovered himself, and the colour faded from his face, he asked, peevishly, "Will you get me something hot?" "Louis," she said, like one in a dream, "Louis, Louis." "Yes, Louis,--and you are Jane. Good Heavens! Do I look as old as you do?" "And yesterday we were children," she said, with a gesture of unspeakable despair. Her misery of expectation and sickening apprehension was all gone. The trivial thought of his personal appearance drove all deeper emotion from her mind. And in spite of the change, how natural it seemed to have him here. How natural to take up her old role of indulgent sister. "Lie here," she said, arranging the pillows on a sofa, "and what shall I bring you?" "Brandy, brandy--and hot water. Be quick." He was gasping for breath, and she hurried away. "Chelda," she said, pausing an instant in the music-room, "I have some guests. I do not wish to be disturbed." Chelda bent her head lower over the broken string that she had just discovered in her violin, and only waiting until her aunt's footsteps had died away, she hurried out-of-doors. Presently she saw Prosperity coming toward the avenue. "Where are you going?" she asked. "To send a boy from the cottages to Captain White with this," and he displayed an envelope on which something was written. "Give it to me. I, too, have a message to send him." She read the scribbled words, "The two express parcels for Derrice have arrived. Let her come up to lunch and see them." "On second thoughts I won't send any message," she said, handing the envelope back. Prosperity trotted on, and Chelda, biting at her under lip, paced nervously to and fro under the poplars. The envelope was handed to Captain White, as he stood on one of the wharves, vigorously scolding the crew of a sailboat for heating and spoiling their fish by carrying too many in a load. It was a very busy morning for him; yet, after reading the few lines, he left the boat's crew, and, hastily making his way to Justin's bank, exchanged a few words with him. His second call was on the chief of police. He wished to find out whether that official was displaying any unusual amount of energy. No, he was not. He sat quietly at his desk, and only looked up with a yawn when Captain White's head was stuck in the doorway, with a query as to whether there was anything new going on. There was nothing beyond the usual routine, and Captain White strolled up to the station.