Miss Merivale had had this speech carefully prepared ever since she came home, and she uttered it so carelessly that neither Rose nor Tom suspected how her heart beat as she said it. Their cousin Lydia was a faint, shadowy figure to them, and the suggestion that Miss Sampson might prove to be related to her husband aroused no interest in their minds. Tom never thought of it again till Rose mentioned Miss Sampson as they were travelling up to Victoria. “I wish Aunt Lucy hadn’t taken her up like this,” she said impatiently. “Pauline will be vexed, for she advised Aunt Lucy to have nothing to do with her.” “But if she is our cousin,” suggested Tom, with a twinkle in his blue eyes, “don’t you think we are bound to patronise our relations?” “How could she be our cousin? Don’t be so foolish, Tom,” Rose answered sharply. “A family connection, then,” returned Tom. “But perhaps you had better not mention the possibility to Miss Smythe. It would shock her too much. All her relations are in Debrett, aren’t they?” Rose looked doubtfully at him. “I never know whether you like Pauline or not, Tom,” she said. “But I am sure you never heard her boast of her relations.” “No, I never did, my dear; but I have somehow gathered the fact that they are very fine people indeed. I always feel I ought to be ashamed that we did not come over at the Conquest when I am talking to Miss Smythe.” “Now you are laughing at her,” returned Rose, with some indignation in her voice. “I believe you are always laughing at her, Tom. And it is just because she is clever. Men always like stupid girls best, who think everything they say is wonderful.” At this Tom laughed outright. “There is one clever little girl I am very fond of,” he said, “and it is going to be dull at Woodcote without her. When will you come back, Rosie? Don’t stay very long. I am sure Aunt Lucy is not well.” “I must stay till Thursday. Pauline and Clare are going to have a musical At Home on Thursday. But I will come back on Friday, Tom. I must, I suppose.” And Rose tried to suppress a sigh. “Do you really want to stay longer?” said Tom, with a wondering look at her. “I daresay Laura would spend a day or two with Aunt Lucy. I don’t think she ought to be alone, Rose.” “Laura fidgets Aunt Lucy to death,” Rose answered quickly. “You know she does, Tom. Of course I shall come back on Friday. I promised Aunt Lucy I would.” While Tom and Rose were talking thus, Miss Merivale was waiting anxiously for Rhoda. She had arranged that she should come to Woodcote that morning while Tom and Rose were away. The station was only half a mile from the house, and she did not send to meet her; but she sat by the drawing-room window, looking with painful eagerness down the drive for the first glimpse of the slim figure she remembered.