As he said the words there suddenly flashed across my mind the remembrance of an almost similar exclamation that I had recently heard. Yes--it was Isabel speaking of the Grim House and its inhabitants. _What_ a strange coincidence it would be if the family Rupert was speaking of should be the same people! Too strange to be possible, I thought, for I have greater belief, now that I have seen more of life, in coincidences than I had then. But the idea did not remain in my mind. I dismissed it as too wildly improbable, and Rupert talked on about his contemplated works of fiction and their "plots" in so interesting a way, that the "stranger than fiction" story I had come across was for the time completely forgotten by me. CHAPTER THREE. MILLFLOWERS. Our "banishment," as I sometimes, in a rather discontented mood, called our stay abroad, came to an end rather sooner than we had expected, thanks to an unusually early and genial spring, which made even father think that it would be safe for mother to return to England. Moore, by this time, was in rollicking health and quite fit for school. And to me our home-going was considerably damped by the knowledge that it meant parting with my last playfellow. After all, the winter had passed pleasantly enough; the Paynes had helped to enliven it. But mother looked rather askance at my friendship with them. "Boys again!" she said half-laughingly. "Always boys, Regina! I wish there had been a _Miss_ Payne." "She wouldn't have been half as nice as Isabel Wynyard," I replied. "And Rupert is really not like a boy; his whole interest is in books and things of that kind. But you should be pleased, mamma, that I have made _one_ real girl friend at last." "So I am," was the reply--"very pleased." "If only they lived nearer us," I said with a sigh. "I shall be dreadfully dull at home when Moore goes." "Poor Regina!" said mother. "Well, we must find something to cheer you up." And though I did not then know it, I believe that it was this conversation that made her determine to arrange for my promised visit to Millflowers as soon as possible. She never thought of herself, though home without _any_ child in it seemed scarcely home to her. The first few weeks, however, of our return were very bright and happy. It was delightful to have Moore so thoroughly his old self, and two of the other boys were with us for Easter; and best of all, the brother whom I cannot describe as a "boy," as he was already twenty-five-- Jocelyn--our "eldest," and I must almost say "dearest." He was deputed to take Moore to his new school, and very proud Moore was of him as an escort.