"Oh, of course! Letitia means to be as kind as possible. She always does. I don't say the child isn't a little scrap spoilt, but she really has very nice manners—generally. Of course she will take Miss Mackenzie about, and make it a pleasant visit. Only it really is 'rather' a bore for poor dear Letitia because I don't suppose Euphrasia Mackenzie will suit Letitia's friends in the least. And a month is a long time. If it were only a week or ten days, one could manage better. But it can't be helped. That sort of thing has to be endured. Letitia ought to have been more cautious with her promises. I do wish she would come in first of the two." Letitia failed to do so. At this very moment she was seated in a friend's house, deeply interested in a certain discussion of plans, and oblivious of the hour. At this very moment Euphrasia was driving alone into the road below the Royal York Crescent. She had not expected to find nobody waiting for her at the big noisy Bristol station. Euphrasia was not yet much of a traveller. "You will be met, of course," her mother had said, on seeing her off. And though capable of managing for herself, she did look out, with eagerness amounting to certainty, for Letitia's pretty face, as the train drew up. But no Letitia was there! Euphrasia wasted some little time gazing blankly about, before she could make up her mind to the reality. Then she secured a porter and found her luggage, not a little hurt at the apparent coldness. Something might unexpectedly have happened to keep Letitia away—still, Euphrasia felt that it must have been a very serious something which should have sufficed to keep her away, if Letitia had been coming to her home. "And if she could not come herself, she might have sent somebody," thought Euphrasia, during the long drive through Bristol, and up a Bristol hill, into Clifton. The cabman presently pulled up and leant over for a word. "Will you get out at the lower door, or at the steps?" "Lower door!" "Royal York Crescent is a terrace, Miss. The luggage 'll have to go in at the lower door, but there's steps up to the terrace, if you'd sooner go in at the front door." Euphrasia forlornly decided to cling to her luggage, and the cab drove on. Then the "lower door" was reached. And Euphrasia found herself, inwardly quaking, in a long stone passage—kitchen regions, plainly. The maid led to a flight of stairs, by means of which they gained the hall. But this was only the "ground-floor," ordinarily considered, level with the terrace. Here were dining-room and library, while for the drawing-room yet another climb was needful. Country-bred Euphrasia, used to two little sitting-rooms on a level with earth's surface, found this a somewhat breathless experience. She grew each instant more heated, bewildered and embarrassed. One glimpse of Letitia would have set all right, but no Letitia appeared. Had her coming been forgotten? Was she really not expected? [Illustration] [Illustration]