"My dear Miss Brooke,--I write by Mabel's wish to beg of you to join my niece and myself here early next week. We are going to Switzerland, where we hope you will accompany us, but will remain here at the `Grand' until Wednesday. If you can manage to be with us on Tuesday night, that will be quite time enough. I hope your uncle will spare you to us; and you may assure him that while you are my guest you will be treated as though you were my child, and will have no expense of any sort. "Looking forward to making your acquaintance, and with my compliments to your uncle, believe me, yours sincerely, Henrietta Lushington." "Hurrah! hurrah!" cried Annie. She read the other letter, but more carelessly; Lady Lushington's was the important one. Mabel wrote: "Dear Annie,--It is all right. Don't fail to be with us on Tuesday night. Aunt Henrietta will send Parker to meet you at the Gare du Nord, and you will doubtless find some escort to bring you to Paris. It's great fun here, although the weather is very hot, and we are dying to be away amongst the cool mountains of Switzerland. Aunt Henrietta goes to all the fashionable hotels, and dresses exquisitely, so if you can screw a little money out of that old flint of an uncle of yours, so much the better; but even if you are shabby, I dare say I can manage to rig you up.--Your affectionate friend, Mabel Lushington." "_P.S._--That awful bill has not come yet! I shake when I think of it. "_P.S._ Number 2.--I am very glad now that I took your advice. It is heavenly to be emancipated. I wouldn't be back at that odious school for a kingdom. Do come quickly." Armed with these letters, Annie now entered the same little room where she and her uncle had partaken of their supper on the previous night. CHAPTER TEN. THE ILLNESS. Mr Brooke was not very well. He was subject to very severe headaches, and had at these times to stay quiet. Annie might have noticed by his languid brown eyes and his slow and somewhat feeble step that something was wrong with him, had she not been so absorbed in her own pleasure. "Good-morning, Uncle Maurice," she said. "I hope you are hungry for breakfast; for if you are not, I am." "I can't manage much this morning, my love," said the old rector. "Just a cup of tea, please, and--and--well, yes--a very small piece of toast." "Are you ill?" said Annie a little crossly, for she had small sympathy for suffering. "Not exactly, my love. I have a headache; but it will pass." "Oh, if you only knew how I suffered from them at school," said Annie in a careless tone. "Dear me! isn't this room too hot, Uncle Maurice? Do you mind if I open the window?" "No, my love," he answered. But when she flung wide the window he shivered slightly, although he would not show his discomfort for the world.