The butler made a little pause--a respectable family servant never forgets that every family has its secrets. He coughed discreetly behind his hand. “I did not ask the gentleman’s name, ma’am--Miss Hill seemed to know him very well.” “Miss Hill--knew him very well!” Astonishment and a certain consternation came into Letitia’s face. But she recollected herself, perceiving Saunders’ look of extreme discretion, which is always an alarming thing. “I have no doubt it is all right,” she said, with great self-possession, “and you have done exactly what you ought to have done in referring to Miss Hill--send up someone to my room with a cup of good tea. One never gets tea one can drink out of one’s own house.” Mrs. Parke repeated to herself, “Someone Mary knows,” under her breath. She was momentarily disturbed. Could it be a piece of presumption on Mary’s part bringing in someone she knew? But this was so incredible that Letitia dismissed the idea, laying it all upon the broad shoulders of John. “He must have made a mistake again,” she said to herself. She was late, everyone had gone to dress for dinner, and the mistress of the house only lingered for a moment in the drawing-room to see that all was in order, to give a little pull to the curtains, and a little push to the chairs such as the mistress of the house always finds necessary when she is expecting guests, breaking the air of inevitable primness which the best of servants are apt to have. She looked round to see that all was right, and then she went upstairs to her room to dress. Mary was standing on the stairs at the end of the corridor which led to the nursery, evidently waiting for her. “Oh, can I speak a word, Letitia?” she said. “I don’t see how you can,” said Mrs. Parke, “for I am late, and you know the Witheringhams are coming. I cannot keep them waiting. But come into my room, if you like, while I dress.” Mary was not coming to dinner on that evening: so that she had no need to dress. She looked pale and anxious standing in the doorway at the end of the nursery passage in her old grey gown. “But I must speak to you alone--not before your maid,” she said. “Some naughtiness, I suppose,” said Letitia with a little sigh of despairing impatience. “Really, you are too particular. But it must wait till to-morrow, my dear--I have only time to slip on my dress.” “But oh, Letitia----”