Meanwhile Maryllia continued, "Now, Spruce, you must begin to be busy! You must prepare the Manor for the reception of all sorts of people, small and great. I feel that the time has come for 'company, company!' And in the first place I'm going to send for Cicely Bourne,--she's my pet 'genius'--and I'm paying the cost of her musical education in Paris. She's an orphan--like me--she's all alone in the world--like me;--and we're devoted to each other. She's only a child--just over fourteen--but she's simply a wonder!--the most wonderful musical wonder in the world!--and she has a perfectly marvellous voice. Her master Gigue says that when she is sixteen she will have emperors at her feet! Emperors! There are only a few,--but they'll all be grovelling in the dust before her! You must prepare some pretty rooms for her, Spruce, those two at the top of the house that look right over the lawn and woods--and make everything as cosy as you can. I'll put the finishing touches. And I must send to London for a grand piano. There's only the dear old spinet in the drawing-room,--it's sweet to sing to, and Cicely will love it,--but she must have a glorious 'grand' as well. I shall wire to her to- day,--I know she'll come at once. She will arrive direct from Paris,--let me see!"--and she paused meditatively--"when can she arrive? This is Friday,--yes!--probably she will arrive here Sunday or Monday morning. So you can get everything ready." "Very well, Miss," and Mrs. Spruce, with the usual regulation 'dip' of respectful submission to her mistress was about to withdraw, when Maryllia called her back and handed over to her care the wicker basket full of visiting-cards. "Put them all by,"--she said--"When Cicely comes we'll go through them carefully together, and discuss what to eat, drink and avoid. Till then, I shall blush unseen, wasting my sweetness on the desert air! Time enough and to spare for making the acquaintance of the 'county.' Who was it that said: Never know your neighbours'? I forget,--but he was a wise man, anyway!" Mrs. Spruce 'dipped' a second time in silence, and was then allowed to depart on her various household duties. The good woman's thoughts were somewhat chaotically jumbled, and most fervently did she long to send for 'Passon,' her trusted adviser and chief consoler, or else go to him herself and ask him what he thought concerning the non-church-going tendencies of her mistress. Was she altogether a lost sheep? Was there no hope for her entrance into the heavenly fold?