Letty was ushered into a small room, full, it seemed to her as she entered, of sunshine and flowers. Wilhelmina, in a plain white-serge gown, with a string of beads around her neck of some strange-coloured shade of blue, was sitting in a high-backed easy-chair. A small wood fire was burning in the grate, filling the room with a pleasant aromatic odour, and the window leading into the square was thrown wide open. On a table by her side were a pile of letters, an ivory letter-opener, several newspapers, and a silver box of cigarettes. For the moment, however, none of these things claimed her attention. The lady of the house was leaning back in her chair, and her eyes were half closed. If she had not been sitting with her back to the light, Letty might have noticed the dark rings under her eyes. It was true that she had not slept well. Letty advanced doubtfully into the room. Wilhelmina turned her head. "Oh, it is you," she remarked. "Come up to the table where I can see you." "Mrs. Brown told me that you wished to see me before I went," the girl said hesitatingly. Wilhelmina was silent for a moment. She was looking at the girl. Yes! she was pretty in a rustic, uncultured way. Her figure was unformed, her hands and feet what might have been expected, and it was obvious that she lacked taste. Were men really attracted by this sort of thing? "Yes!" Wilhelmina said, "I wish to speak to you. I am not altogether satisfied about last night." Letty said nothing. She went red and then white. Wilhelmina's examination of her was merciless. "I wish to know," Wilhelmina said, "who your companion was--with whom you had dinner and supper. I look upon that person as being responsible for your lost train." Letty prayed that she might sink into the ground. Her worst imaginings had not been so bad as this. She remained silent, tongue-tied. "I'm waiting," Wilhelmina said mercilessly. "I suppose it is obvious enough, but I wish to hear from your own lips." "I--he--I don't think that he would like me to tell you, ma'am," she faltered. Wilhelmina smiled--unpleasantly. "Probably not," she answered. "That, however, is beside the question. I wish to know." The girl was desperate. It was indeed a quandary with her. To offend the mistress of Thorpe was something like sacrilege, but she knew very well what Stephen would have had her do. "If you please, ma'am," she said at last, "I can't." Wilhelmina said nothing for a moment, only her eyebrows were slowly lifted. "If you do not," she said, calmly, "I must write to your mother and tell her what I think of your behaviour last night. I do not care to have people near me who are disobedient, or--foolish." The girl burst into tears. Wilhelmina watched her with cold patience. "I presume," she said, "that it was Mr. Macheson. You do not need to mention his name. You need only say 'Yes!'" The girl said nothing. "Mr. Macheson lodged with your mother, I believe?" Wilhelmina continued. "Yes!" the girl whispered.