"He must be a man of about father's age," I reflected, "or even a little older, if he is a contemporary of Mr Grey's." But by this time I was feeling very tired, very sleepy, and almost before I had finished eating, I felt that I _must_ go to bed, if I were to be fit to take my share in looking after and cheering poor Moore the next day. "And I shall have to write home and tell them about it," I thought to myself. "Oh dear, oh dear! I wish I had never heard of the Grim House. I should like to forget its existence." But this was not to be. I woke the next morning considerably refreshed, and inclined to take a more cheerful view of things. Moore, I was glad to find, had had a fairly good night, all things considered, though his foot and ankle were of course still very inflamed and swollen. Mrs Bence and Maple, however, thought well of it in comparison with what it had been, and so long as he kept it motionless, my brother said that the pain was slight. I was just preparing to begin my letter to mother, when the sound of wheels--I was sitting near the window of the library, which at one side looked to the front--made me stop, my heart beating a little faster than usual from the idea that it might possibly be Isabel and her father returning sooner than we had expected them. "Oh, no," I said to myself reassuringly, "of course it will only be the doctor," though in another moment the sight of the approaching vehicle revived my doubts and fears. It was the fly again! I drew as near the window as I dared, while avoiding being seen, almost expecting to catch sight of the stranger, our good Samaritan, getting out, for it struck me that he might have had to stay the night after all, and had come up to inquire how Moore was getting on. But no, the driver himself got ponderously down and rang. It was certainly neither the doctor, the Wynyards, nor the stranger! Wild ideas rushed through my mind as to the possibility of its being father, or Jocelyn even, though half an instant's reflection showed me the absurdity of such a thing. Who could it be? From where I stood, the interior of the carriage was completely hidden from view. I heard the servant cross the hall, and as it were, _felt_ the little colloquy that ensued when the door was opened. Then the driver turned to the fly with the information he had received, and its occupants at last became visible. They were--words fail me to describe my sensations--none other than the two little old maiden sisters from Grimsthorpe!