Merry turned crimson and then grew pale. "Father doesn't approve of schools," she said in a faint voice. "As a rule, I do not," said Mr. Cardew decidedly; "but of course I am bound to say there are schools and schools. You shall tell me all about your school presently, Miss Howland. And now, I will allow my daughter to entertain you." "But, father darling, you promised to show Maggie the manuscript-room yourself." "Are you interested in black-letter?" said Mr. Cardew. "I am interested in everything old," replied Maggie. "Well, then, I will show you the manuscript-room with pleasure; but if you want to go over the Manor you have a heavy morning's work before you, and Merry is an excellent guide. However, let me see. I will meet you in the library at a quarter to twelve. Until then, adieu." CHAPTER V. "WHAT DID YOU TALK ABOUT?" Maggie and Merry had now reached the great porch which overshadowed the entrance to the old house. The next instant they found themselves in the hall. This, supported by graceful pillars, was open up to the roof of the house. It was a magnificent hall, and Merry began enthusiastically to explain its perfections. Maggie showed not a pretended but a real interest. She asked innumerable and sensible questions. Her queer, calm, narrow eyes grew very bright. She smiled now and then, and her face seemed the personification of intelligence. With that smile, and those gleaming white teeth, who could have thought of Maggie Howland as plain? They went from the hall into the older part of the house, and there Merry continued her duties as guide. Never before had she been in the company of so absolutely charming a companion. Maggie was the best listener in the world. She never interrupted with tiresome or irrelevant questions. When she did speak it was with the utmost intelligence, showing clearly that she understood what she was being told. By-and-by they found themselves in the picture-gallery. There Merry insisted on their sitting down for a time and taking a rest. She touched a bell as she spoke, and then motioned Maggie to recline in a deep arm-chair which faced the picture of a beautiful lady who was the grandmother of the present Mrs. Cardew. "That lady's name," said Merry, "was Cicely Meredith, and she was the wife of the last Meredith but one who owned the Manor. It was little supposed in those days that my darling mother would inherit the place, and that Cardews should live at Meredith Manor after all. Ah, here comes Dixon!--Dixon, will you put our lunch on that small table? Thank you very much." One of the servants in the Cardew livery had appeared. He was bearing a small tray of tempting drinks, fruit, and cake. "Now, Maggie, eat; do eat," said Merry. "I declare I am as hungry as a hawk," said Maggie, and she munched cake and ate fruit and felt that she was, as she expressed it to herself--although she would not have used the words aloud--in clover.