And now the girl, returned to the quiet house to find her mother not yet risen, had found its solitude unbearable, the very echoes that the famous Le Mesurier voice had awakened within its walls having died now into quite disproportionate silence, it seemed to Hazel, who, fleeing to the woods, had given herself up to sad meditation, in which the wistful desire to earn money herself held prominent place. Lying on a bed of soft mosses, she lost herself in thought, and more than an hour must have passed when the sound of footsteps fell upon her startled ears. Raising herself to a distrustful sitting posture, the girl awaited what should chance, presently descrying the figure of Miles the butler, evidently in quest of herself, though at the moment of her discovery she could perceive him passing among the trees along many and divergent tracks. "Miles," she cried, "Miles"; and, springing to her feet, the girl ran to meet the old servant. "Is mother asking for me?" she inquired. To her surprise, for all answer, Miles, rummaging in the breast pocket of his coat, produced an orange-coloured envelope: a telegram addressed to Hazel; and, placing the missive upon a tiny salver he was carrying, presented it to his young mistress; then retiring a few paces, awaited her pleasure. Truly the two figures presented an odd contrast one to the other; the girl slim, graceful, upright as the feathery larch near which she stood, pink-cheeked, bright-eyed, the embodiment of delicate, supple youth; the old man, clothed in shabby black, the fresh green around rendering his poor habiliments more rusty-looking and threadbare than ever, the baggy knees lending to his attitude the effect of a curtsey from which he had never recovered. Yet the face, though seamed with many a line, was fresh-coloured and well favoured, possessing a cheery, bland expression, born of peace and contentment—heritage of advancing age into which, alas, all too few come. Hazel, recovering from her astonishment at finding herself the recipient of a message of sufficient importance to necessitate a telegram, with trembling fingers opened the envelope and read the following words: "Been sacked: break news gently to mother: meet afternoon train, TEDDIE." "Miles," the girl said tremulously—and as the servant approached she regarded him in awed solemnity—"to be sacked is to be discharged, isn’t it?" "Yes, miss," Miles replied, his eyes almost as dilated as those of his young mistress, "is—is the message from one of the young gentlemen, miss? Has one of them been—er—discharged, miss, if I may make so free?" Hazel, flushing red, then pale, read aloud the contents of the telegram, Miles listening with bated breath; after which the two regarded one another in silence, both guiltily conscious that their emotions were not altogether of such a nature as the occasion seemed to demand.