Colonel Kingsward’s return was approaching very near when on one of those bright October afternoons a lady from the neighbourhood--nay, it was the clergywoman of the parish, the Rector of Kingswarden’s wife, the very nearest of all neighbours--came to call. She had just returned from that series of visits which in the autumn is--with all who respect themselves--the natural course of events. Mrs. Chichester was a woman of good connection, of “private means,” and more or less “in society,” so that she carried out this programme quite as if she had been a great lady. She had an air of importance about her, which seemed to shadow forth from her very entrance something that she had to say--an unusual gravity, a look of having to make up her mind to a certain action which was not without difficulty. There passed a glance between Mrs. Kingsward and Bee, in which they said to each other, “What is it this time?” as clearly as words could have said; for, to be sure, they were well acquainted with this lady’s ways. She sat for a little, and talked of their respective travels since they had last met; and of the pleasant weeks she had passed at Homburg, where so many pleasant people were always to be met after the London season; and then she lightly touched on the fact that she had come over early in September, and since then had been staying at a number of country places, with the dear Bishop, and at Lady Grandmaison’s, and with old Sir Thomas down in Devonshire, and so on. “Or,” she concluded, with a disproportionate emphasis on that apparently unimportant word, “I should have been to see you long ago.” There was a significance in this which again made Mrs. Kingsward and Bee exchange a look--a laughing glance--as of those who had heard the phrase before. When, however, she had asked some questions about Mrs. Kingsward’s health, and expressed the proper feeling--sorry to hear she had been so poorly; delighted that she was so much better--Mrs. Chichester departed from her established use and wont. Instead of beginning upon the real object of her visit, after she had taken her cup of tea, with a “Now,” (also very emphatic) “I want to interest you in something I have very much at heart,”--which was generally a subscription, a society, a bazaar, a missionary meeting, or something of the sort--Mrs. Chichester bent forward and said, in a half whisper, “I have something I want very much to talk to you about. Could I speak to you for a moment--alone?” Bee was much surprised, but took her part with promptitude. “You want to get rid of me,” she said. “I shall go out on to the terrace, mamma, and you can call me from the window when you want me. I shall be sure to hear.”