'Mamma is so dreadfully worried about Cyril!' she said once. 'She wants him to speak to Dr. Powell; she is quite sure that he is ill. He hardly eats anything--at least, he has no appetite--and mamma says that is so strange in a young man. And he walks about his room half the night; Biddy hears him. You recollect that evening he dined at Woodcote? Well, he never came home that night until past twelve, and Biddy declares that his bed was not slept in at all; he must just have thrown himself down on it for an hour or two. And he had such a bad headache the next morning.' Audrey walked to the piano and threw it open. 'I am very sorry your brother is not well,' she said in rather a forced voice, as she flecked a little dust off the legs. 'Mollie, I think Caroline has forgotten to dust the piano this morning. Will you hand me that feather-brush, please? I want you to try this duet with me; it is such a pretty one!' And after that Mollie's fingers were kept so hard at work that she found no more opportunity for talking about Cyril. Another time, as Audrey looked over her French exercise, she heard a deep sigh, and glancing up from the book, found Mollie gazing at her with round sorrowful eyes. 'Well, what now?' she asked a little sharply. 'Oh, I am so sorry, Miss Ross!' returned Mollie, faltering and turning red; 'I am so dreadfully sorry, Miss Ross, that Cyril has offended you. I thought you were such good friends, but now----' She stopped, somewhat abashed at Audrey's displeased expression. 'My dear Mollie, I have never been really vexed with you before; but you will annoy me excessively if you talk such nonsense. I am not in the least offended with your brother--whatever made you say such a thing?--and we are perfectly good friends.' Audrey spoke with much dignity as she took up her pen again. Poor Mollie looked very much frightened. 'Oh dear, Miss Ross,' she said penitently, 'you are not really cross with me, are you? It was not my own idea; only mamma said last night that she was sure you were offended about something, for you never come to see us now, and your manner was so different when she spoke to you after chapel on Sunday; and then she said perhaps Cyril had offended you.' 'I tell you it is all nonsense, Mollie!' 'Yes, but I am sure there is something,' returned Mollie, half crying, for Audrey had never been impatient with her before. 'Cyril will never let me talk to him about you; he gets up and leaves the room when mamma begins wondering why you never come. Cyril was quite cross when she asked him to give you a message the other day. "It is more in Mollie's line," he said; "I never can remember messages," and he walked away, and mamma cried, and said she could not think what had happened to him--that he had never been cross with her in his life before; but that now she hardly dared open her lips to him, he took her up so.' Audrey sighed wearily, then she gave Mollie a comforting little pat.