There was no mistaking her real distress now, and Lady Jane felt that it was impossible to insist. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but of course, if you feel so strongly about it, I won’t say anything more. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind very much trying some stuff I always use myself if I happen to get burnt by the wind when motoring. It’s not at all nasty, you know--in fact, it’s rather nice, and it’s very soothing. Will you let me send a bottle to your room? I always keep a supply.” “It’s most kind of you, I am sure,” answered Ellen, immensely relieved. “I can’t tell you how I dread seeing a doctor! If you will only tell me just what to do, I shall be very grateful.” Lady Jane’s lotion for the face was a marvellous compound. Judging from the short, but imposing, statement set forth on the neat Parisian label, it was the highest achievement of two famous French chemists in collaboration with an ancient and celebrated manufactory of perfumery in the Rue de Rivoli. Miss Scott, who was strictly truthful, said that she used it conscientiously, and so she did; but she did not add that she had another little bottle of her own, the contents of which she applied with equal regularity to her nose and her cheek during at least a week after her interview with Lady Jane. When the lotion was almost finished, however, a marked improvement was visible. Her nose was still as red as ever, but the disfiguring blotch grew rapidly smaller and paler. Lady Jane was delighted, but, with the exception of Lionel, the men of the family were so thoroughly convinced that poor Miss Scott was a dreadful sight, that they did not notice the change at all, while Lady Jane’s interest in the cure she was effecting steadily increased. It is well known that a red nose is even harder to cure than a bad complexion, but she did not lose heart. Bottle after bottle of the wonderful lotion was sent to the governess’s room, and Lady Jane was soon obliged to order a fresh supply from Paris. Her maid, who had been the first to discover that Ellen was a perfect lady, took a lively interest in the cure. “It’s a wonderful change for the better, miss, if I may say so,” she said, “and it’s a mercy that her ladyship happens to use the lotion, for I must say she never needed it [Illustration: “‘You mark my words, miss. The Lord knoweth his own.’”] in her life. But the Lord knoweth His own, miss, and Providence never meant that your sweet face should be spoilt by an ugly patch.” The maid was pious, and had reached that age at which piety has some chance of being permanent. “It’s very nice of you to take so much interest,” answered Ellen, in the tone which had won the humbler part of the household from the first. “And pray who wouldn’t?” inquired the excellent woman. “Mark my words, miss,” she added, as she went out, “the Lord knoweth His own.”