‘Yes, mother;’ but Mab could not help glancing aside at the letter with an awakened interest, and wondering what Uncle James, so infrequent a visitor on ordinary occasions, could be wanted for--again. ‘You are right, Mab,’ said her mother, ‘it is about business and about this letter in particular. And if you can give him my message without anybody else knowing, I shall be all the better pleased.’ ‘Is it about--Uncle Reginald, mother?’ ‘About Reginald! Oh no, you may make your mind easy. It is not about Reginald. It is,’ she said, with a sudden desire for sympathy, ‘something much more important to you and me; but I cannot tell you now,’ she added, remembering herself, ‘you will know of it all in time.’ ‘Is it from Mr. Leo, mother?’ said Mab, growing very pale, and towering over the table as she looked at her mother, with severity, yet terror, as if she had suddenly grown a foot in stature. Lady William, altogether engrossed in other thoughts, gave her a look of astonishment which was balm to Mab’s soul. ‘From Leo!’ she said, amazed. ‘Why should it be from Leo? I told you,’ she said, with a little impatience, ‘that it was a letter of importance, which none of his little communications could be. Tell your uncle,’ she continued, falling into her usual tone, ‘that I have received a letter on which I wish to consult him. Remember that I have no secrets,’ she said, suddenly looking up; ‘I don’t want you to make a mystery; but if you could see him--by himself, to give him my message----’ ‘Oh yes, I can do that easily,’ said Mab, in the relief of her mind. ‘I want to say something to him about Mrs. Brown.’ ‘I must see this Mrs. Brown,’ said Lady William, with a smile. ‘She seems to have a fascination for you, Mab.’ At this unexpected and most unintentional carrying of the war into her own country Mab flushed crimson, and cried quickly: ‘Oh no, nothing of the sort. I don’t even _like_ her. She is not like any one else I ever saw.’ ‘I must see her--one of these days,’ said Lady William vaguely: and then the faint smile died off her face, and she turned to contemplate the long blue letter which lay by her plate. It looked a dangerous thing among the little inoffensive white and gray envelopes. Lady William’s letters were chiefly gray, written upon that ugly paper which people, and especially ladies, use out of economy, and which is one of the additional (small) miseries of life.