"Good! He's telephoned to Questerham, I suppose. Now, Miss Jones, let me help you. Boy, you'd better get on to the back seat; your inches are better suited to it than mine," said John firmly. He put the rug round Grace, and she sank thankfully on to the small seat of the dog-cart. They hardly spoke while he drove cautiously along the remaining mile of high road and up the long avenue to Plessing. Even when John helped her down at the hall door he only said: "I shall see you tomorrow. I shall never forget this Christmas Eve." "Nor I," said Grace. In the hall Miss Bruce greeted them with subdued exclamations. "_How_ tired you must be, and half frozen! Sir Piers is just the same; the doctor is still upstairs. He and Charmian got here two hours ago or more, and told us what had happened. There wasn't anything to send for you but the little cart. Poor dear Charmian! such a home-coming for her! She's wonderful, of course--never given way for an instant." "Where is she?" "Upstairs. I've sent to tell her and Lady Vivian that you've arrived at last." "And, Miss Bruce, we _should_ like some food if it can be managed without too much trouble." "Of course, of course. Miss Jones, your room is ready. Wouldn't you like to change your wet shoes at once?" Miss Bruce spoke with an odd mixture of doubt and compassion, as she looked at Grace warming her frozen hands at the hall fire. It was evident that she did not feel certain whether Miss Jones was to be regarded as a friend of Lady Vivian's, whom Captain Trevellyan had judged necessary to bring to Plessing at all costs, for Joanna's sake, or as Char's junior secretary, thrusting herself upon her chief's family at a particularly inopportune moment. But the question was solved a few instants later, when Joanna Vivian herself, coming downstairs in her black tea-gown, exclaimed softly: "You've brought her, Johnnie! Well done! No; there's no change yet. I want you to see Dr. Prince." Then she took Grace's hands in hers and said: "Thank you, my dear, for coming to me." XVI "Well, I couldn't have believed it--Christmas morning and all!" "What, Mrs. Bullivant?" "This letter from the office, dear." Little Mrs. Bullivant's face was scarlet, and her voice shaking. "But what is it?" "Miss Vivian has dismissed me. This was evidently written two days ago, and has been delayed in the post. She simply says that she has come to the conclusion that I find the Hostel rather too much for me and is making other arrangements at the New Year. Oh, my dear!" Mrs. Bullivant dissolved into tears, and Tony, aghast, picked up the small trebly-folded sheet of crested paper that had fallen from its square envelope. "Written by herself, too, not typed! Oh, I _am_ sorry! But doesn't she give any reason?"