“Be so good as not to speak at all,” said Mary, quickly hurrying past. They burst into a great noise of laughter when she was gone--a shrill celebration of triumph. She got back to the morning room with a sensation of dismay, for which she had no words. She was all alone, with the household in mutiny behind her. She was startled, however, to see that someone was before her arranging neatly enough, and with quiet care, the tray with Mary’s dinner, which, according to Saunders’ instruction, had been sent up there. The maid was an under housemaid--a quiet and good girl, whom they had been kind to. But even she had her part in the revolt. When she had arranged everything, she came up to Mary, who had thrown herself into a chair by the fire. “I think everything’s here, miss,” she said. “Perhaps you will just look and see if there’s anything more you will want.” “It will do very well, I am sure, Jane.” “I want to know, if you please,” said Jane, “whether you will want anything more to-night: for we’re going to have a party in the servants’ hall; and I’d rather get it now than be called after, if you please.” “You are going to have a party in the servants’ hall?” “Yes, miss. Mr. Saunders and John is going to do some acting, and there’s going to be a dance. If you’ll excuse me, I shouldn’t like to be called away.” “I shall not want you any more,” said Mary. She tried to smile at the festivity which had turned all their heads. But when, a little later, the sounds of the downstairs merriment came peeling up the great staircase, Mary felt like a prisoner abandoned among enemies. She had never felt so much alone as in the dreary silence of the house, with the distant revels going on. A genteel dependent scoffed at by all the conspirators downstairs--and all the while Lord Frogmore’s letter in her desk. CHAPTER XV.