"Some dear old friends of ours live in that house," she said. "It is not very inviting-looking, is it? Once they lived in such a beautiful place, until old Mr. Chaytor lost his money. I am always so sorry for them. I think troubles of this kind fall very heavily on some natures." Waveney assented to this, but the subject did not much interest her. They had left Dereham behind now, and before them lay a wide, green common, with pleasant roads intersecting it. A little clear pool by the roadside rippled in the sunlight. Near it was a broad, grassy space shaded by trees. Two or three nurses sat on benches, and some children were dancing hand in hand, advancing and retreating, and singing in shrill little voices. "Here we go gathering nuts in May," they were chanting, and then one child fell down and began to cry. Across the common there were soft blue distances and a crisp wind, laden with the perfumes of firs and blackberries, fanned their faces. Then they drove through some white gates. A lodge and a long, shady lane were before them, with long, parklike meadows on one side. It was all so sweet, so still, and peaceful, in the evening light, that Waveney was half sorry to find that their journey was at an end; for the next moment the carriage stopped, and the lodge-keeper opened some more gates, curtsying with a look of pleasure when she saw Miss Harford. "I have not come home to stay, Mrs. Monkton," observed Miss Harford, with a friendly nod, and then the horses began frisking down a winding carriage drive. The shrubbery was thick, but every now and then Waveney had glimpses of little shut-in lawns, one with a glorious cedar in the middle, and another with a sundial and peacock. An old red brick Elizabethan house was at the end of the drive, with a long sunny terrace round it. At the sound of the wheels two little Yorkshire terriers flew out to greet their mistress with shrill barks of joy. "Oh, what pretty little fellows!" exclaimed Waveney. "Yes, they are great pets. Fuss and Fury, that is what we call them," returned Miss Harford, smiling, "and I think you will allow that the names suit them." CHAPTER VI. QUEEN ELIZABETH'S WRAITH. "... Life indeed must always be a compromise between common sense and the ideal,--the one abating nothing of its demands, the other accommodating itself to what is practicable and real."--Amiel. As they entered the large square hall with Fuss and Fury frolicking round them, a tall respectable-looking woman came forward to meet them. "I suppose my sister is in the library, Mitchell?" asked Miss Harford, quickly. "Yes, ma'am. Parker has just taken in the tea." "Then will you please give this young lady some: take her into my room, and make her comfortable. I must ask you to excuse me for a short time, Miss Ward, as I have to talk over one or two things with my sister; but Mitchell will look after you."