'No one will invade your privacy to-day, Aunt Milly; it would be a violation of county etiquette to call upon strangers till they had been seen at church. You and Miss----' Richard paused awkwardly, and hurried on--'You will have plenty of time to settle yourself and get rested.' 'Fie, Dick--what a blank. You are to be nameless now, Polly,' 'Don't be so insufferably tiresome, Rex; one can never begin a sensible conversation in this house, what with Chriss's contradictions on one side and your jokes on the other.' 'Poor old Issachar between two burdens,' returned Roy, patting him lightly. 'Cheer up; don't lose heart; try again, my lad. Aunt Milly, when you have finished with Polly, I want to show her Podgill, our favourite wood; and Olive and Chriss shall go too.' 'Wait till the afternoon, Roy, and then we can manage it,' broke in Chriss, breathlessly. 'You can go, Christine, but I have no time,' returned Olive wearily; but as Richard seemed on the point of making some comment, she gathered up her books, and, stumbling heavily over her torn dress in her haste, hurried from the room. Mildred and Polly shut themselves in their rooms, and were busy till dinner-time. Once or twice when Mildred had occasion to go downstairs she came upon Olive; once she was standing by the hall table jingling a basket of keys, and evidently in weary argument on domestic matters with Nan--Nan's broad Westmorland dialect striking sharply against Olive's feeble refined key. 'Titter its dune an better, Miss Olive--t' butcher will send fleshmeat sure enough, but I maun gang and order it mysel'.' 'Very well, Nan, but it must not be that joint; Mr. Richard does not like it, and----' 'Eh! I cares lile for Master Richard,' grumbled Nan, crossly. 'T'auld maister is starved amyast--a few broth will suit him best.' 'But we can have the broth as well,' returned Olive, with patient persistence. 'Mamma always studied what Richard liked, and he must not feel the difference now.' 'Nay, then I maun just gang butcher's mysel', and see after it.' But Mildred heard no more. By and by, as she was sorting some books on the window seat, she saw Chrissy scudding across the courtyard, and Olive following her with a heavy load of books in her arms; the elder girl was plodding on with downcast head and stooping shoulders, the unfortunate black dress trailing unheeded over the rough beck gravel, and the German grammar still open in her hand. CHAPTER V OLIVE 'The yearnings of her solitary spirit, the out-gushings of her shrinking sensibility, the cravings of her alienated heart, are indulged only in the quiet holiness of her solitude. The world sees not, guesses not the conflict, and in the ignorance of others lies her strength.'--Bethmont.