"I knew"--she added--"that Sir Wilfrid Lang lived somewhere near here. That they told me at the office." "And the house is empty?" Delia, flushing suddenly and vividly, turned to her companion. "Except for the caretaker--who no doubt lives some where on the ground-floor." There was silence a moment. Then Delia laughed uncomfortably. "Look here, Gertrude, we can't attempt anything of that kind _there_: I remember now--it was Sir Wilfrid's brother who had the house, when I used to go there. He was a great friend of Father's; and his little girls and I were great chums. The house is just wonderful--full of treasures! I am sorry it belongs to Sir Wilfrid--but nobody could lift a finger against Monk Lawrence!" Miss Marvell's eyes sparkled. "He is the most formidable enemy we have," she said softly, between her closed lips. A tremor seemed to run through her slight frame. Then she smiled, and her tone changed. "Dear Delia, of course I shan't run you into any--avoidable--trouble, down here, apart from the things we have agreed on." "What have we agreed on? Remind me!" "In the first place, that we won't hide our opinions--or stop our propaganda--to please anybody." "Certainly!" said Delia. "I shall have a drawing-room meeting as soon as possible. You seem to have fixed up a number of speaking engagements for us both. And we told the office to send us down tons of literature." Then her face broke into laughter--"Poor Mr. Winnington!" * * * * * "A rather nice old place, isn't it?" said Delia, an hour later, when the elderly housekeeper, who had received them with what had seemed to Delia's companion a quite unnecessary amount of fuss and family feeling, had at last left them alone in the drawing-room, after taking them over the house.