"I see what it is," said that lady. "Mrs. Gillett has forgotten the girl she used to scold once; so, Minnie, we will sit outside here, and I will make her better acquaintance as a woman," and the cousins, suiting the action to the word, sat down each on a garden-chair, which they drew close to the window. This was a thousand times worse than any position she ever had been in; no blindness, no pattens, could save her here. She was not a free agent--What would they say? what do? and besides, the door was locked--should any one rap! It was the hour when the servants generally required her advice or presence to prepare for supper; her agony was intense. She durst not move lest Minnie should step in, using her own chair for that purpose. Every possible thought crossed her mind to terrify her--should Miles sneeze? and, in the midst of all this, Minnie began-- "Now," she said, "Gillett, I've come to scold you for your cruelty yesterday to poor Mr. Tremenhere." Mrs. Gillett was seized with a violent fit of coughing; could _any_ subject more terrible under circumstances have been selected? Miles was all attention. "You've a bad cough," said Lady Dora, kindly, for her; but she wanted Minnie's homely warmth of speech. "Th-an-k you-r la-dy-ship, I ha-ve," coughed the woman. "You should be careful at your age," continued the other. "Colds are the forerunners of all disease, they say." "So o-ur doc-tor tel-ls me," uttered the housekeeper, perplexed how to keep up the cough; "and he sa-ys I sh-ou-l-d avoid dr-aughts!" "And here we are," cried the feeling Minnie, "keeping you in one." She rose hastily. Mrs. Gillett began in all gratitude, thanking her lucky star for taking them away, as she supposed that luminary so intended to do; when, lo! at that instant, a hand tried the lock, then rap--rap--rap, succeeded--then Sylvia's voice! The housekeeper was nearly frantic. She hurried half-way to the door, then returned. Miles stood perfectly still and composed. "I'll go round by the garden, Minnie," said Lady Dora, rising. "Don't remain long with Mrs. Gillett," and she turned away with her slow, majestic walk. Minnie put her chair in at the window, stepping in like a cat upon it. Gillett indistinctly saw all this; she wrung her hands, hurried to the assailed door, opened it, slipping through a crevice she would have dreamed an impossible feat of performance an hour before, and speaking loudly as she did so. "Oh! Miss Sylvia, I'm so flusterated I don't know what I'm a-doing of; there's a strange cat come into my room, and gone into a fit--don't go in!" she screamed, as the courageous Sylvia attempted to do so. "It will bite, maybe! I'll lock it in; the window is open--it will go as it comed, I daresay!" and, suiting the action to the word, she tremblingly turned the key, which she had taken outside with her. Presence of mind is woman's greatest gift. CHAPTER IX.