The note was slipped into the letter-box in the hall, as Elma went down to dinner that night, lovely to behold in the "rucked gown," and the perusal of it next morning was one of the pleasantest episodes which Cornelia had known since her arrival. Truth to tell, she had felt many doubts as to the reception of her fineries, but the mental vision of Elma's tasteless home-made garments, against the background of the beautiful old Manor, had been distressing enough to overcome her scruples. She dimpled as she read, and laughed triumphantly. Things were going well; excellently well, and those dresses ought to exercise a distinctly hurrying effect. Four or five days--maybe a week. "My!" soliloquised Cornelia, happily; "I recollect one little misery who proposed to me at the end of an afternoon picnic. They're slower over here, but Mr Greville was pretty well started before this spell began, and if he's the man I take him for, he won't last out a whole week with Elma among the roses. Then the fun will begin! Sakes alive, what a flare-up! And how will the `Moss Rose' stand pickling? That's where I come to a full stop. I can't surmise one mite which way she'll turn; but she's got to reckon with Cornelia E Briskett, if she caves in." Miss Briskett did not vouchsafe any inquiry as to the contents of the letter which had afforded such obvious satisfaction. She had probably recognised Elma's writing on the envelope, but made no inquiries as to her progress. Relationships between the aunt and niece were still a trifle strained; that is to say, they were strained on Miss Briskett's side; Cornelia's knack of relapsing into her natural manner on the very heels of a heated altercation seemed somehow an additional offence, since it placed one under the imputation of being sulky, whereas, of course, one was exhibiting only a dignified reserve! Miss Briskett set forth on her morning's shopping expedition without requesting her niece to accompany her, an omission which she fondly hoped would be taken to heart; but the hardened criminal, regarding the retreating figure from behind the curtains, simply ejaculated, "Praise the Fates!" swung her feet on to the sofa, and settled herself to the enjoyment of a novel hired from the circulating library round the corner. For a solid hour she read on undisturbed, then the door opened, and Mason entered, carrying a telegram upon a silver salver. "For you, miss. The boy is waiting for an answer." Cornelia tore open the envelope with the haste of one separated far from her dearest, took in the contents in a lightning glance, sighed with relief, and slowly broke into a smile. "Well--!" ... she drawled thoughtfully; "Well--! ... Yes, there is an answer, Mason. Give me a pencil from that rack!" She scribbled two or three words; copied an address, and handed it back eagerly.