Mrs. Ormsby anticipated a very grand scene indeed when Miss Turquand should pay her first visit to the Hall. She hardly knew whether to feel indifferent or disgusted by the impending alterations, but wisely determined to wait the course of events. No one could tell her anything whatever of Miss Turquand. In her imagination, the new proprietress seemed to be a starched old maid, who might perhaps “come and settle here, and worry my life out,” the widow fancied. Of a charming young girl of eighteen, she never for an instant dreamed. When one of the few servants forming the necessarily limited household came to inform her that three ladies wished to see her, she supposed they were strangers, who desired permission to view the house. She threw down her plain sewing, and quitted the morning-room in which she was sitting--a delightful nook, half in sun, half in shade, affording a view of the prettiest part of the garden and of the extensive landscape beyond. In her rich black silk and violet ribbons, she rustled along a glass-covered way leading into the great square hall--this a curious and fine example of quaint architecture. The ladies were at the principal door, in the pony-carriage waiting for her. Mrs. Ormsby had never seen Blanche Dormer, so that the three aristocratic-looking ladies were all equally strangers to her. She glanced from one to the other, her eyes finally resting on Lady Quaintree. “Mrs. Ormsby, I believe?” said her ladyship. The housekeeper curtsied affirmatively. Her ladyship proceeded to explain the reason for this visit, and directed Mrs. Ormsby’s attention to the youthful owner of the house. Mrs. Ormsby gazed at Lois with mingled curiosity and surprise. Without betraying any visible emotion, however, she begged the ladies to alight and enter. As the late Mr. Vere Gardiner had every now and then paid a totally unexpected visit to the Hall, and gave instructions that it was to be constantly kept in perfect order, within and without, the house and grounds were always ready for the closest inspection. The housekeeper preceded the ladies into the great oak-carved hall, and threw open a door to the right. “Miss Turquand had some idea of staying here for to-night, if not for a couple of days,” said Lady Quaintree, gazing around through her gold-rimmed glasses. “Would you be able to accommodate us?” “Certainly, my lady. You would wish to dine here?” “If it could be managed--yes,” said Lady Quaintree. “I had better order your carriage round to the stables, then, my lady.” “My dearest Blanche, you will surely stay till morning?” said Lady Quaintree, who seemed far more the mistress than Lois, who had wandered to one of the long, wide windows, and was regarding the highly cultivated garden with pleasure and interest. “Mama would be alarmed----” “Nonsense! I will send word by Stephen, your groom, that your mama is not to expect her dear Blanchette till she sees her. Come, that is settled.”