Judging from the appearance of the place, in spite of the ink marks and well-stained blotting-paper, there was not much work carried on there, though, of course, I could not judge that then. All that struck me was that the place looked most melancholy, and that a gloomy yew-tree that half shaded one window was heavily laden with drops of rain. Seeing my mug and plate upon the big desk, I remembered the words of the servant, and hastened to take them to the kitchen, where I was received with a scowl, and hastened to retreat back to the office. I had been standing there about an hour, and had just noticed that the clock pointed to half-past eight, when I heard a light step behind me, and, turning round, there stood the girl I had seen in the garden at home. Her bright, fresh young face was the first pleasant thing upon which my eyes had rested since I came the night before, and as we stood gazing at each other it seemed to me that I could read sympathy and welcome in her frank smile. "Good-morning," she said quietly, and held out her hand, which I was in the act of taking, when a wiry sharp voice cried loudly-- "Hetty! Hetty! where are you?" "Here, mamma," cried my visitor. "Then you've no business there," cried the same voice; and the owner--to wit, the lady I had seen in the garden--came in. "Go back to the parlour directly, miss; and mind this, you are never to come in here at all." The girl looked eagerly at me again, nodded, and tripped away, leaving a hopeful feeling behind that I could not explain. "So you are young Grace," said the lady, whom I presumed to be Mrs Blakeford, and I gazed wonderingly at her pained wrinkled face and weak-looking, wandering eyes. "Mind this: you are to keep in the office. I won't have you in my rooms; and Mr Blakeford says you are not to be in the kitchen on account of the neighbours' remarks. I'm sure I don't know why we study people who never study us; and I'm pinched enough for money now, without having you thrown on to my housekeeping." "Now then, what are you doing there?" cried Mr Blakeford harshly, as he entered in his slippers. "Go and make the tea; what do you want to begin chattering to that boy for about our private affairs?" Mrs Blakeford muttered something about being always wrong, and turned to go. "Always wrong? Of course you are, when you will come meddling with what don't concern you. Now then," he cried, turning sharply round to me, "what are you staring at? Get a cloth and rub down that desk and table. Can't you see how dusty they are?" "Yes, sir," I said, for it was very evident. "Then why don't you go and do it, blockhead?" I started to perform the task in great alarm; but I had no duster, and dared not ask him. Fortunately he was called away just then to his breakfast; but he seemed to me to be there still, gazing at me with his keen dark eyes, while his tightly closed thin lips seemed as if they were about to be drawn aside to bite.