As the door opened to admit some one, Frederica passed out, but she did not turn her face towards home, nor towards school. "I will go to Cousin Cyprien," said she to herself. "I cannot trouble mama, and I cannot go back to Mrs Glencairn's without some hope that it will all be set right. Papa so soon forgets." And not giving herself time to lose courage by thinking about the difficulties before her, she hastened away. But when she found herself in the dismal hall into which Mr St. Cyr's office opened, and from which the staircase to his house led, she wished herself well away again. It was late in the morning by this time, but Mr St. Cyr had not come down to his office, the man who opened the door told her, and Frederica went upstairs with a beating heart. She thought she had come at a wrong time, when she opened the door, and found that Mr St. Cyr was not alone. But her friend hastened to welcome her, and though he expressed some surprise at the sight of her, he expressed pleasure also. "Only I fear you must be in trouble again," said he, kindly. "Is it something very serious this time? Ah! yes, your face says so. It is not--is it Prickly Polly? But first let me introduce my brother to you, whom you ought to know. Jerome, this is Theresa's daughter--Mr St. Hubert's grandchild." "It must be Theresa herself, I think," said the dark man, who rose and held out his hand. "No, I am Frederica. Theresa is younger than I." "She is very like her, is she not? Just the same bright little creature. But she is not bright to-day. Tell me what is the matter, my little cousin." Frederica hesitated. She did not like to speak before Mr St. Cyr's brother. She would not have liked to speak before anyone, but, as she told Tessie afterwards, the Reverend Mr St. Cyr had not a nice face. It was a face that somehow made her think of a mask, and she looked with a little startled curiosity at him, wondering what might be behind it. "It brings back your youth, does it not? She is very like what her mother was in those days. But her mother is changed. Ah! so sadly changed," said Mr St. Cyr, with a sigh. But the priest did not answer a word. "Well, what can I do for you?" said Mr St. Cyr, turning to Frederica. "Who has been troubling you this time? Not Prickly Polly, sorely? I thought I had settled her affairs the other day. What is it now?" "Did you?" said Frederica, eagerly. "And was it very disagreeable?" "Well, for her, rather so, I fancy. What is it now? Is it a secret? And does Madame the Schoolmistress let you go here and there about the city by yourself? She thinks you `sensible,' I suppose?" Frederica shook her head. "I was not alone. Nora took me to papa's office, and then I came here. It is not a secret, but--" The Rev. Mr St. Cyr sat down, and took up a book. "Regard him as if he were made of wood," said Cousin Cyprien, laughing; "and now tell me all your trouble."