"I will give orders for a fire night and morning, certainly, ma'am," said Benson. "I did not offer it because our ladies never have one in their bedrooms at this time of the year. Mrs. de Tracy is very strong and active for her age." "It's my opinion she's a w'eedler," remarked Benson at the housekeeper's luncheon table. "She asks for what she wants like a child. She has a pretty way with her, I can't deny that, but is she a w'eedler?" Wheedler or not, Robinette got her fire to dress by, and so was able to come down in the morning feeling tolerably warm. It was well that she was, for the cold tea and tough toast of the de Tracy breakfast had little in them to warm the heart. Conversation languished during the meal, and after a walk to the stables Robinette was thankful to return to her own room again on the pretext of writing letters. There she piled up the fire, drew her chair close up to the hearth, and employed herself until noon, when she took her embroidery and joined her aunt in the drawing room. Luncheon was announced at half past one, and immediately after it Mrs. de Tracy and Miss Smeardon went to their respective bedrooms for rest. "Are there indeed only twelve hours in the day?" Robinette asked herself desperately as she heard the great, solemn-toned hall clock strike two. It seemed quite impossible that it could be only two; the whole afternoon had still to be accounted for, and how? Well, she might look over her clothes again, re-arranging them in all their dainty variety in the wardrobe and drawers; she might put tissue paper into the sleeves of each bodice, smoothing out every crease; she might even find that some tiny repairs were needed! There were three new hats, and several pairs of new gloves to be tried on; her accounts must be made up, her cheque book balanced; yet all these things would take but a short time. Then the hall clock struck three. "I must go out," she thought. Coming through the hall from her room Robinette met her aunt and Miss Smeardon descending the staircase. "We are driving this afternoon," said Mrs. de Tracy, "would you not like to come with us?" The thought turned Robinette to stone: she had visited the stables, and seen the coachman lead what seemed to her a palsied horse out into the yard. Her sympathetic allusion to the supposed condition of the steed had not been well received, for the man had given her to understand that this was the one horse of the establishment, but Robinette had vowed never to sit behind it. "I think I'd rather walk, Aunt de Tracy," she said, "I'd like to go and see my mother's old nurse, Mrs. Prettyman. Can I do any errands for you?" "None, thank you. To go to Wittisham you have to cross the ferry, remember." "Oh! that must be simple! you may be sure I shall not lose myself!" said Robinette. Both the older women looked curiously at her for a moment; then Mrs. de Tracy said:--