She read the advertisement carefully through again, then rose and locked it away in her desk with Sophy Lansing’s letter. She glanced through the rest of her correspondence, which was not exciting,--one note asking for the character of a servant, another for the pattern of a blouse, and a third enclosing a recipe for a special sort of jam, “with love to your sweet kind mother!” She put them all by, and stretching her arms languidly above her head, caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror. This time it was more satisfactory. Her hair, hanging down to her waist, was full of a brightness, made brighter just now by the sunlight streaming through the window, and her nun’s veiling “rest gown” had a picturesque grace in its white fall and flow which softened the tired look of her face and eyes into something like actual prettiness. The fair ghost of her lost youth peeped at her for a moment, awakening a smarting sense of regretful tears. A light tap at the door fortunately turned the current of her thoughts, and the maid Grace Laurie entered, bearing a dainty little tray with a cup of tea invitingly set upon it. “I’ve just taken some tea to Mrs. May in her bedroom,” she said. “And I thought you’d perhaps like a cup.” “You’re a treasure, Grace!”--and Diana sat down to the proffered refreshment. “What shall we all do when you go away to be married?” Grace laughed and tossed her head. “Well, there’s time enough for that, miss!” she replied. “_He_ ain’t in no hurry, nor am I! You see when you’re married you’re just done for,--there’s no more fun. It’s drudge, wash, cook and sew for the rest of your days, and no way of getting out of it.” Diana, sipping her tea, looked at her, smiling. “If that’s the way you think, you shouldn’t marry,” she said. “Oh yes, I should!” and Grace laughed again. “A woman like me wants a home and a man to work for her. I don’t care to be in service all my days,--I may as well wash and sew for a man of my own as for anybody else.” “But you love him, don’t you?” asked Diana. “Well, he isn’t much to love!” declared Grace, with twinkling eyes. “His looks wouldn’t upset anyone’s peace! I’ve never thought of love at all--all I want is to be warm and comfortable in a decent house with plenty to eat,--and a good husband is a man who can do that, and keep it going. As for loving, that’s all stuff and nonsense!--as I always say you should never care more for a man with your ’ed than you can kick off with your ’eels.” This profound utterance had the effect of moving Diana to the most delightful mirth. She laughed and laughed again,--and her laughter was so sweet and fresh that it was like a little chime of bells. Her voice, as already hinted, was her great charm, and whether she laughed or spoke her accents broke the air into little bars of music.