Maurice blushed at his own folly in betraying his secret scruples, but his cousin spared him any farther teasing, and they went on their way peacefully. It seemed to him when he entered the stately Frostwinch house that it had somehow been transformed. Everything was much as it had been in the lifetime of Mrs. Frostwinch, yet to his fancy all looked fresher and more cheerful. He smiled to himself, feeling that the change must simply be the result of his knowledge that this was now the home of Berenice; yet even so he could not persuade himself that the alteration was not actual. He felt joyously alert as he followed Mrs. Staggchase to the library, where Bee was sitting with old Mrs. Morison. He had never been in this apartment before. It was high, and heavily made, with an open fire on the hearth, and enough books to justify its name. Berenice came forward to meet them, and Mrs. Morison remained seated near the fire. "I am so glad to see you, Mrs. Staggchase," Bee said cordially. "It is just one of those dreary days when it proves true courage to come out." "And true friendship, I hope," the other answered, passing on to Mrs. Morison. "My dear old friend, I wish I could believe you are as glad to see me as I am to see you." Berenice in the mean time gave her hand to Maurice graciously, but with a certain grave courtesy which he felt to put them upon a purely ceremonious footing. "It is kind of you to come," she said. "Grandmother will be glad to see you." Maurice tried hard to look unconscious, but he could not help questioning her with his eyes. She flushed under his eager regard, and drew back a little. "I am very glad of the chance to see--Mrs. Morison," he answered. Bee flushed more deeply yet. Then she turned mischievously to Mrs. Morison. "Grandmother," she said, "it seems that Mr. Wynne came to see you and not me." The old lady greeted him kindly. "I am glad to see you looking so well, Mr. Wynne," she said. "I hope that your arm does not trouble you at all." "Not at all. I was too well taken care of at Brookfield." Mrs. Staggchase laughed, spreading out her hands. "There," said she gayly, "you see! He has only been in my hands a few weeks, but I call that a very pretty speech." "He probably has a natural gift for pleasing speeches," Berenice remarked meaningly. Maurice crimsoned, but his education had not proceeded far enough for him to have any reply. "Well, take him away, Bee, and give him tea or gossip. I want to talk to your grandmother about old friends, and you young people won't understand." "He may have tea if he is tractable," responded Bee. "We are evidently not appreciated, Mr. Wynne. Will you ring the bell over there, please."