"Yes, it was a secret," returned Queenie more calmly. "Don't you remember we are not to let 'our left hand know what our right hand doeth'? But never mind, it is done now," for Emmie's eyes were already filling with tears at the notion of Queenie's displeasure. "Run and tell Patience to have her kettle boiling; I dare say Miss Cunningham will like some tea." "May I stay and help Patience? there are some muffins, and I meant to toast them myself," and, as Queenie nodded assent, Emmie stole down the little passage noiselessly and shut herself up safely with Patience. As Queenie walked into the room very erect and open-eyed she did not fail to notice that Miss Cunningham had already made herself at home. Her sealskin jacket lay on the chair beside her, and her little furred gauntlets also. Her golden hair shone under her beaver hat; the dark close-fitting dress suited her to a nicety. But as she came forward, holding out her hand, it struck Queenie that she looked somewhat pale, and that her smile was a little forced. "What an age you have been," observed Dora lightly. "I have been sitting with Emmie nearly an hour I believe. I thought you were never coming in, and then my long drive would have been in vain. I suppose Langley told you of my return home?" "No; I was not aware of it," rejoined Queenie; and now she felt a little surprise at Langley's omission. Dora's delicate eyebrows arched themselves slightly. "How very strange! and her brother was dining with us last week. He was our first visitor, of course," with a meaning emphasis. "The girls are so fond of him, and papa can do nothing without him, which makes it very pleasant for me. By-the-bye," her manner changing abruptly, "Mr. Clayton tells me that you have been only playing at schoolmistress all this time, Miss Marriott, and that you are in reality a woman of fortune." "Mr. Calcott has been good to me and left me all his money. I was poor, very poor, when I met you first," her heart sinking strangely at Dora's words. Why had she begun to talk of Garth? "When people do eccentric things they must expect to have all sorts of motives imputed to them. What will the world say, by-the-way, of your lending all that money to Mr. Clayton?" fixing her eyes a little too keenly on Queenie's face. "It may say what it likes," with the proudest possible manner, for she felt her spirit rising at this. What did it matter what the whole world said about her conduct, if only her conscience were clear? "The world does not believe in a disinterested friendship," a faint color coming into her face; "it would sneer at such an improbability." "I generally find the world is right," returned Dora, with aggravating calmness. "Of course it will say you are in love with Mr. Clayton, you are prepared for that, Miss Marriott." A painful blush overspread the girl's face.