Mrs. Baffall came instead. Mrs. Baffall, looking a little older and a little greyer and a little more nervous; Mrs. Baffall with an eye upon the door, even while she tearfully hugged Moira. Yet Mrs. Baffall, very prosperous-looking for all that, even though not quite fitting in with the gold and the mirrors. "Oh, my dear," murmured Mrs. Baffall, turning the pale face to the light of the windows that she might see it better, "where have you been all this time?--and why haven't we seen you? Often and often I've thought about you--(oh, my dear--what a white, thin face it is!)--and wondered what had become of you. And Old Paul (though the Lord forgive me for speaking so disrespectful of the dead) going away like that, without ever making the least provision! And as you know, my dear, Baffall and me couldn't do everything--and you did make up your mind to go your own way--and----" "I've wanted to write to you often," said Moira, speaking a little unsteadily--"but--but there seemed to be nothing to write about. We've led very quiet lives. And Alice----" "Well--and very pretty," said Mrs. Baffall hurriedly, with another glance at the door. "Not but what, my dear, it hasn't been in my mind many a time that it might have been better to take someone else at the first--instead of her. For she hustles us, my dear; we don't seem to get that peace in the house that Baffall and me looked forward to. It's pictures here--and a crick in the neck through looking at the top ones--and a concert there--and all sorts of things that we ain't used to. But still--she's young--and I suppose----" The door opened, and a vision came in. The word is advisable, seeing that for the moment Moira did not recognise, in this radiant appearance, the short-skirted child of the tumbled curls she had known a few years before. For this was a being perfectly dressed, with hair perfectly arranged, and with a wonderfully correct smile of welcome parting her lips and brightening her blue eyes. There was no haste or impetuosity or eagerness; only one swift critical glance at the thin, somewhat shabbily dressed figure; then an embrace, with a little murmur in the girl's ear that was half pitying and half patronising; a murmur that sent the hot blood to Moira's cheeks, and chilled her at the same time. "My sweet Moira--to meet you like this!" exclaimed the exquisite one. "Over and over again I've urged Aunt Baffall to do something--to advertise--or inquire of somebody--and yet nothing's been done. How have you lived, my dear--and what are you doing with yourself? Do sit down and tell me all about it?"