Why, if her brother did not want money, had he sold the place? Surely he must have had some liking for a home where so many generations had lived and died, and, as her eye took in the ugly garden and the closely-built streets at a stone's throw only of his gate, her wonder increased. She was conscious of a perfect sinking of the heart when she thought that here must probably all the rest of her days be spent. Christie's words rushed into her mind, and then came the meeting at the hall-door, and Margaret's sweetness. Yes; that was a real comfort to her, and no caress ever was bestowed with greater results; the drop of kindness just when she so needed kindness sank into her heart. Whatever the days might hold for her in the future, this would always be gratefully remembered. Poor Margaret, having left her, went to congratulate Grace, as she did herself, upon so pleasant a surprise. Instead of the disagreeable and authoritative woman they had pictured to themselves, here was a gentle and timid lady, whom it would be easy to love. Full of this relief, she found Grace in their own room. She was leaning against the shutters, and her eyes were fixed upon the town. Margaret knew by instinct that she was ruffled. "Anything wrong?" she asked, brightly, going up to her, and laying her hand affectionately upon her shoulder. Grace made no reply, but she gave a little shrug, and dislodged her sister's hand. "What is wrong, Gracie?" asked Margaret anxiously; "what have I done? Are you vexed with me, dear?" "Vexed with you! oh, dear no! but you really are very dull, Margaret. You make life here difficult for me." "I make life more difficult for you!" And Margaret coloured, partly from a just sense of Grace's unfairness, and partly because she was indignant as well as hurt. "How can I put that Mrs. Dorriman in her place, when my sister, my own sister, makes such a fuss about her?" "It never occurred to me that she was a person you would think of putting in her place." "That is just what I complain of." "She seems to me so gentle and so timid. I think it will be more difficult for her to take up a position than you think. I cannot fancy her ever saying anything to you you may not like." "If she does, I will soon let her know my opinion about her; but you heard what Mr. Sandford said, and I mistrust these quiet women. I feel as though she might be as obstinate as possible. Did you notice, her upper lip?" "You are so much cleverer than I am, darling, and so much quicker. No; I only saw that she felt coming here very much, she looked ready to cry." "Well, Margaret, if you think yourself wiser than I am, I give it up. As I said before--making a fuss about her at the very outset makes my part very much more difficult; and after all your violent professions it seems hard that on the very first opportunity you fail me, and take up a line of your own."