“You may be sure I’m not proud of my part in it,” declared Jean; “but I must send back the housekeeper’s shoes, and get my own.” “Oh, don’t think of it!” exclaimed Mrs. Craighill, to whom, in the new confidence established between them, a mere item of shoes seemed the most negligible thing in the world. “I’m going to get you to accept--please!--a pair of shoes from me--a souvenir of the occasion--and I’ll see that the borrowed ones get back to Rosedale.” “Well----” began Jean, taken aback by Mrs. Craighill’s animation. “Of course these shoes must go back; and we’ll have the shop send up a lot for you to choose from this afternoon. And now I’m going to ask a great favour of you, Miss Morley. I don’t like being alone, and I wish you would come and dine with me again to-night; I shall very likely be all alone--you know my husband is in Boston, and Mr. Wayne is very uncertain. We can have a fine, long evening together. You know I’m just a little bit jealous that Mrs. Blair has a share in your work, and here am I, quite on the outside!” “I shall be very glad to come,” said Jean; “only, it will spoil me, so much splendour! I’ll have to go down to my boarding house from school, but I’ll come here late in the afternoon.” “That is very dear of you. If I’m not in when you come you will be expected; and do make yourself perfectly at home. That strange Mr. Walsh has asked me to drive with him in the park this afternoon--he’s a great horseman, you know, and an old friend of Mr. Craighill’s. I’m just a little afraid of him; but he really means to be kind, don’t you think so? He seemed very much interested in you last night--he told me you were very nice--there!” “He’s very interesting and very kind, I think. He and my grandfather know each other. I’ll come, then, about five.” Mrs. Craighill sighed heavily as she saw the girl depart; but after all, things were not so ill. The absence of Mrs. Blair was nothing short of providential; and Jean Morley seemed the least suspicious of young women. Very likely, by the time Mrs. Blair returned, the girl would have forgotten the meeting at Rosedale and what, Mrs. Craighill asked herself, with an access of virtue built upon the cheerier mood in which Jean had left her, what was there to awaken suspicion in any mind? Wayne she had ceased to consider at all; his conduct had been unpardonable, and she was well rid of him. It did not matter whether he came home to dine or not; if he appeared she would punish him by withdrawing early, with her guest, to whom his attentions had been so marked, and leave him to his own devices. Her grievance against her husband for leaving her behind, for reasons that were in themselves an insult, hung darkly in the background. She was aware that she never could feel the same toward him; in her heart she had characterized him in harsh terms that repeated themselves over and over in her mind.