"Yes." Oh, what a hesitating yes! Madame folded her in her arms. "Try to lighten someone else’s sorrow," she said, kissing her tenderly, "then you will forget your own, and the roses will bloom in your cheeks again." The Walk was beginning to show signs of life. The Eyesore came slouching back, and resumed his fishing with a lack-lustre eye. The early housekeeping having got itself done, the ladies of the Walk were showing themselves at their windows, tending their flowers or dusting their ornaments. Miss Ruth Pennymint came bustling out of her door, with needlework. She looked up at the overcast sky and held up the back of her hand. "Ah," said Madame, catching sight of her. "Coming into the fresh air to work, Miss Ruth?" Miss Ruth was evidently not in the best of tempers. "Of course it’s going to rain," she snapped. "Oh, not yet," said Madame, conciliatorily. "Do you mind if I sew here?" said Miss Ruth. "It’s so lonesome in the house, when Barbara’s locked up with that precious bird!" What could be the matter? The word "precious" was uttered in a manner which conveyed an exactly opposite meaning. Madame said soothingly, "That is so touching!" And Ruth snorted. There is no other word. She snorted. Madame and Marjolaine glanced at each other, and both moved towards the house. But Miss Ruth had no intention of being left alone. "Marjory!" she called. Marjolaine came back; and Madame went into Number Four alone. *CHAPTER VIII* *CONCERNING A GREAT CONSPIRACY* [Illustration: Chapter VIII headpiece] Now Marjolaine did not want to talk to Miss Ruth just at that moment, and it says much for her sweetness of character that she came back docilely. "Marjory," said Miss Ruth, looking at her searchingly, "you haven’t had a singing-lesson this week." Marjolaine was confused, and a little angry. She had just exhausted the subject with her mother, and it was too bad to be thrust into the midst of it again by this comparative stranger. So she answered rather coldly, "I have n’t been quite myself." "So I saw," said Miss Ruth, examining her over her spectacles. A hot flush rose to Marjolaine’s cheeks. Had she really been wearing her heart on her sleeve, and showing the whole Walk the state of her feelings? She must be more careful in future. "Anything the matter?" asked Miss Ruth. Marjolaine answered hastily, "Oh, nothing. Nothing to speak of." "H’m," said Miss Ruth, violently biting off a cotton-end. Then she added, "Barbara was quite upset." "How sweet of her!" cried Marjolaine.—Dear, sympathetic little Barbara! "Oh! Not so much about you," said Miss Ruth rather acidly. "But she looks forward to sitting with you and Mr. Pringle, when you are singing." "Is she so fond of music?" asked Marjolaine, glad to turn the conversation into a less personal channel.