What did “shop” mean, she wondered, and guessed that it was synonymous with “betray.” And what sort of a man was this Mr. Chesney Praye that he could use these cant terms in the face of his noble employer? She had heard of men and women who occupied so well-established a position in the households of the great that they could grow familiar with the people they were paid to respect, and she supposed this was one such. It was left to Lord Moron to protest. “Don’t like ‘shop,’ old thing,” he quavered. “Sort of a low-down term to use before a young lady--what?” Again those menacing eyes of his mother cowed him. “It does not shock me, Selwyn, and I have no reason to suppose that my secretary will be shocked either.” He wilted under the glance, muttered something incoherent and stole guiltily out of the room. Lois would gladly have followed, but there was no excuse. Instead, it was Mr. Chesney Praye who was dismissed. “You must run along now, Chesney,” said the countess. “I want to have a little talk with Miss Reddle.” Chesney, with his ever-ready grin, took a somewhat elaborate farewell of his hostess, bending to kiss her plump white hand that was so covered with jewels that Lois wondered whimsically whether he would cut his lip. “You, young lady, I hope to meet again,” he said briskly, as he shook hands with unnecessary warmth, his bright eyes never leaving hers. “I might take her around a bit, don’t you think, countess? Is she from the country?” “Miss Reddle has lived for some years in town,” said Lady Moron, and the reproof in her voice would have chilled most persons, but Chesney Praye was not the kind to be snubbed. “Anyway, she hasn’t seen the sights I shall probably show her. Perhaps her ladyship will let you come and dine one night at the club. Do you dance?” “If I’m allowed to choose my own partners, I dance rather well,” said Lois. “Then you shall choose me,” said the thick-skinned young man, “for I’m a dandy hopper!” It was some time after they were left alone before Lady Moron spoke. She stood, surveying the square below, her hands behind her, and Lois thought her ladyship must have forgotten that she was present, until the countess spoke, without turning her head. “There will be nothing for you to do to-day. I’ve answered all my letters. We lunch at one-thirty, and you, of course, will invariably be at our table except when we have visitors. Dinner is at eight o’clock. You will be allowed to go out every other afternoon from five to ten, and such weekends as I am in the country will be your own. Thank you very much, Miss Reddle,” and with this dismissal Lois went directly up to her room, wondering how she would fill in her spare time between meals.