Which of course it would be, seeing that it was the heaviest. Lettice followed Dr. Bryant slowly, her pleasure marred for at least an hour. The idea of Theodosia turning over and handling with cold critical fingers all those sacred relics of the loved past, was painfully repugnant to Lettice. She almost felt at first as if she must give up the excursion, and stay at home to protect her treasures. The thought of Theodosia's sneering laugh, and careless toss to one side of dresses worn by Sissie, knick-knacks valued by Sissie, books treasured by Sissie, sent a positive shudder through the girl. Many of these things she would naturally have had out in her room for use, but she had always been restrained by the dread of Theodosia's chilling remarks and questions. Theodosia now had stolen a march upon her. Another recollection had helped to hinder her ready acquiescence. A half-written letter to Felix lay In her desk, speaking of Theodosia in terms which, however true and moderately expressed, and by no means unkind, were not intended for Theodosia's eyes. In searching for the keys Theodosia could hardly fail to come upon the letter. This would have been a matter of indifference, if Lettice could have felt sure that Theodosia was honourably incapable of reading another person's letter: but no such confidence was possible. She knew too well that Theodosia was not honourable. The small wrong of the letter, however, went down and sank into nothing before the real pain of having her cherished treasures at Theodosia's mercy. "Eh, Lettice! What is the matter?" asked the Doctor. Lettice looked up silently. She had not heard the question, till it was twice repeated. "Something is disturbing you, child." "Oh, nothing—I mean nothing really of consequence," said Lettice cheerfully. "It was only—about my room." "What about it?" "Mrs. Bryant wanted to be able to open my boxes. She said they would be too heavy to move. I don't know why—they never have been." Lettice usually made it her rule never to complain to the Doctor of his wife: but resentment was for once too strong to be mastered. "I shouldn't care with any of them—except one." "Do you keep your boxes in your bedroom?" "Yes. I don't mind. Mrs. Bryant said there was not room anywhere else in the house. And I shouldn't like that one to go—the biggest." "Why?" "Sissie's things are all in it—" very low. "Theodosia will not hurt them, child." He could not enter into the girl's feelings. Lettice shivered, and said, "No." "Then what are you afraid of?" "I am not—afraid." "Not of anything? I don't understand." Dr. Bryant was regarding her attentively. "It isn't being afraid. She will not hurt anything—of course. It is only—I don't think I can explain. I don't like the things I love so much—to be—to be handled—by—" "By one whom you do not love! Is that it?" "Oh, I did not mean—I do want to love Mrs. Bryant." "I would not give way to that feeling, Lettice." "I do try not," she murmured.