In more ways than one that day, the first she had passed for many weeks under her own name, was a very trying one for Margaret. She would gladly have spent it in bed, as Eleanor had done, but as the doctor who had come to see her had pronounced her little the worse for her night in the wood shed, there had been no excuse for her to stay in bed, and she had been obliged, about eleven o'clock, to get up to see her grandfather first, then Mrs. Murray, and later in the morning Mrs. Danvers, and Hilary, who had been brought out to Wrexley to apologise for her outrageous behaviour of the day before. Mrs. Danvers had been naturally anxious to know where Margaret had passed the night while search had been so vainly made for her, and she could scarcely believe that mere chance had indeed led Margaret across the downs to Wrexley woods in the darkness. And yet such, as Geoffrey had surmised, had been the case. Trying to reach Windy Gap Margaret had passed close by it in the fog and had wandered on and on until, somewhere about midnight, she had found herself at the entrance to a small hut in the wood, and, thankful beyond words to be in shelter of some sort, she had crept into it and, making herself as comfortable as she could on some dry faggots of sticks, had fallen sound asleep. And she had been still sleeping when Sir Richard, who usually took a stroll before breakfast every morning, had come suddenly upon her. But when Margaret, who said that she freely forgave Hilary--as, indeed, she did--for all her unkindness and foolish suspicions about her, would have apologised in her turn for the deception she had practised upon her, that good-natured lady checked her at once. "My dear," she said, "I can't see that you did me any harm. You made the children an excellent holiday governess, and you were always so kind about winding my wool and picking up my stitches that I shall miss you dreadfully. So say no more about the wrong you did me. I am quite sure that I liked you a great deal better than I should have liked the real Miss Carson, though I dare say she might have got on better with my young people. You have heard, of course, that it was my two boys, Noel and Jack, who put all those things in your box. Oh, not with a view to getting you into trouble, but it was a prank they had played off upon Colonel Baker. I made them go down and confess to him this morning and take his property back with them, and, judging from their crestfallen looks ever since, I fancy they have had a talking-to that they won't forget in a hurry. So they have been well punished, and Tommy has been wired to to come home at once, so he has been punished. And Hilary's punishment here is to come. It will take the form of such endless banter and chaff from her brothers and sisters that it will be a long time before she thinks of playing private detective to any one in my house again."