Miss Grace sat with her hands folded nervously. She was quite erect in a way, but there was invariably a pathetic little droop to her head and shoulders which gave her a delicate appearance. A very costly piece of creamy lace was introduced into the bodice of her grey gown, and on it the locket which contained Miss Annie’s portrait and hair rose and fell in little agitated jerks. Miss Annie wore a corresponding locket containing Miss Grace’s portrait and hair, but these always lay languorously on her white throat undisturbed by such palpitation as now excited Miss Grace. "Oh, my dear," she said to Miss Dudgeon, "you don’t understand. The gaiety of the place is nothing to me. It’s like being here--where my friends say to me how nice it is to have windows opening on to the high road, where so many people pass. I tell them that it isn’t those who pass, it is those who come in who count. You passed for so long, my dear." She put her hand mutely on that of Adelaide Maud. It was true then. Miss Grace hadn’t known her all these years when the Leighton girls talked about the Story Books so much, but only recently! The Dudgeons must really be coming out of their shell. Elma’s eyes grew round with conjecture. Why was Adelaide Maud so friendly now? "It was really Dr. Merryweather," said Adelaide Maud. A faint flush invaded Miss Grace’s pallor. "It is most kind of Dr. Merryweather. Years ago, I am afraid we rather slighted him." "Oh well, he keeps a very friendly eye on you, Miss Grace, and he says you are to go to Buxton." It became the first real trouble of Miss Grace’s own life, that she should have to go to Buxton. Adelaide Maud arranged it for her, otherwise the thing would never have occurred. It was she who persuaded Dr. Smith to put it this way to Miss Annie that it would be dangerous for her to have the anxiety of Miss Grace’s being ill at home, and most upsetting to the household. It was better that the excursion should be looked upon as a holiday graciously granted by Miss Annie, the donor of it, than an imperative measure ordered by the doctor for the saving of Miss Grace. Miss Grace wondered at the ready acquiescence of Miss Annie. She seemed almost pleased to let her sister go. In a rather sad way, Miss Grace began to wonder whether, after all, she might not have released herself years ago. Would Annie have minded? The progress of this malady which now asserted itself, she had quietly ignored for so long, that only a darting pain, which might attack her in the presence of Miss Annie, had compelled her to consult Dr. Smith. He was astonished at what she had suffered.