"Sit down straight away and write a letter I can show round, summoning me home by the first boat! You can call it an `urgent crisis.' It's as true as taxes, though not in the way they take it. I've got to run, and that's all there is to it. Our jaunt must wait till another day. You must comfort me, Poppar,--you and America!--Your lonesome, Cornelia." She did not pause to read over what she had written, but, fastening it in an envelope, pealed the bell, which brought Mary running blithely to her service. For once, however, the devoted slave ventured to raise a feeble objection. "_Now_, Miss Cornelia? I'm in the middle of my silver. It will go just as soon if it's posted by half-past three!" Cornelia glanced at her with the air of an offended goddess. "I said now, and I _mean_ now! This instant, before you touch another one thing. Post it with your own hands, and come up here to tell me it's done!" Mary vanished in a whirl of starched cotton skirts, rushed to the pillar-box at the corner of the Park, and in five minutes' time was back at the bedroom door to proclaim her obedience. Cornelia was still standing in the middle of the room. It appeared to the maid that she had not altered her position by as much as an inch since she had seen her last. Her expression was tense with expectation. "It's gone, miss! I put it in myself!" The golden eyes regarded her strangely. "Did you, Mury?" said Cornelia, low. She paused a moment as though to form some expression of acknowledgment, but it did not come. "Some time," she continued slowly, "some time, Mury, I believe I'm going to thank you very much, but to-day I don't feel like gushing. ... You can go back to your work." CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. "I suppose I must give them tea!" was Mrs Ramsden's comment upon hearing of the visit which had been planned for the afternoon. Her depression was broken by a struggling sense of elation, for it was not every day that Madame deigned to accept hospitality from her neighbours. She despatched a messenger to the confectioner's to purchase a pound of plum cake, a muffin, and half a pound of macaroons, the invariable preparations under such circumstances, and gave instructions that the best silver and china should be brought out of their hiding-places, with the finest tablecloth and d'oyleys. At three o'clock Elma discovered her removing the covers from the drawing-room cushions, and folding them neatly away in the chiffonnier. Something in the simple action touched the girl, and broke down the hard wall of reserve which had risen between her mother and herself during the past painful week. She stretched out impulsive arms, and stooped her head to kiss the troubled face.