Florence coloured and then turned pale. She wondered if anyone had, in some miraculous way, become acquainted with the fact of their own great poverty; but no, the whole thing seemed impossible. Florence herself had been careful not to breathe a word on the subject, and she was pretty sure that Brenda had not done so. What, therefore, could Mrs Fortescue mean? As to the other matter--that which related to Lieutenant Reid, it is sad to have to confess that Florence, for the time being, had forgotten the gallant lieutenant. "I am hungry!" she said; "and I would rather talk to you after dinner than before: that is, if you don't mind." "I don't mind at all, dearest," said Mrs Fortescue. "You would like to go upstairs and change your travelling dress. I will send Bridget in to help you." "Thank you," said Florence. She was about to refuse this offer, but suddenly remembered that all her dresses fastened behind, and that she could not manage this part of her toilet now that Brenda was away. She ran upstairs at once, locked her door and flung herself on her knees by her bedside. There she uttered a strangled sort of prayer to God to give her help; but she had not been more than a minute on her knees before Bridget's knock was heard. Florence went to the door and opened it. Bridget was always respectful to the Misses Heathcote, for they were liberal with their tips and were, she considered, exceedingly nice, lively young ladies, who made the house pleasant and enabled her to stay on with Mrs Fortescue. She would long ago have left that good lady but for the fact that the Misses Heathcote came to Langdale in the holidays, and made the place bright and cheerful, and caused her mistress to provide the best food, and, in short, to give every one in the house a good time all round. "I have come to help you, miss," said Bridget now. "You will be that lonely without dear Miss Brenda. We none of us knew she was going to stay in town when you both left this morning." "Oh, it's all right, Biddie dear," said Florence. "Brenda had to stay: I don't want to talk too much about it, for it makes me so very sad." "Then it ain't all right, if it makes you sad," said Bridget. "We have all of us to bear pain in our turn, haven't we?" said Florence, looking full at the elderly servant with her bright eyes. "I suppose so," said Bridget, who felt interested in this talk and inclined to concur. "My poor mother, who died a very lingering and painful death, always said that pain was the will of Providence. I couldn't see it, miss; but I suppose she was right." "Yes, Bridget," said Florence; "she was quite right. Please fasten me into my white dress--this one, please. Thank you so very much." "We have had quite an entertaining day," said Bridget. "You wouldn't believe it--but we had company to lunch." "Company?" said Florence, in some astonishment. "What do you mean?"