"I have not spoken to Miss Helmont yet," said Imogen, "but Trixie has been so kind to us. I can't help thinking Major Winchester misunderstands her a little." Oliver drew his lips together _almost_ as if he were going to whistle. Then he thought better of it, and turned the conversation from his youngest sister. "I suppose it's true what the parsons say," he remarked. "People have much kinder feelings to others if they've had troubles themselves. Rex has had lots; his mother died when he was quite a young fellow, and he adored her; and then--" "Has he no brothers and sisters--no one belonging to him?" asked the girl, eagerly. "He's got a brother, much younger--a very good fellow--and a sister. But it's very sad about her, and the saddest of all is--" But here a general move announced that luncheon was over, and Oliver's communications only left Imogen with a vague notion that Major Winchester was one of a thousand, and that there were some especially sorrowful circumstances connected with his only sister. This latent sympathy gave an additional gentleness and almost deference to her manner, a still greater softness to her pretty eyes, when she came upon Rex in the hall, where with Florence and Captain Helmont, the eldest son of the house, and one or two others, he was discussing the plans for the afternoon. "It is clearing, there's no doubt," Major Winchester was saying. "I've had driving enough for my part, for to-day; suppose we go off for a walk?" "Dear me!" said a mocking voice beside him. "What condescension! You don't mean to say that _you_, Major Winchester, are offering to go for a walk with any of _us_!" The speaker was Mabella Forsyth. "Yes, really, it is wonderful," said Alicia as she sauntered up to join the group, which was gradually augmented by most of those present. "What's coming over you, Rex? Not that _I_ want to go for a walk; it's far too sloppy and plashy, and I'm tired already. Besides, some one must stay with mother to receive the Girards and the Custances." "I will come, Rex," said Florence, promptly though quietly. "There is nothing to do in the house: we can't begin settling our parts or anything till Mr Girard is here, and Gerty for the dresses is indispensable.--Perhaps Miss Wentworth would like to come too?" she added kindly. "We can lend you strong boots and a mackintosh if your things haven't come. And we must start at once--November afternoons in these northern latitudes are not much to boast of. Who else will come? You, Noll?" "Very much at your service," replied Oliver, who had found his pretty neighbour to his taste. Florence's eyes wandered round the group. "No, thank you," said Miss Forsyth, pretending to think that they had rested on her, "Trixie and I prefer to be independent in our strolls."