She went out of the room. The rector watched her as she disappeared. He did not know why he felt so depressed and uneasy. His headache was rather worse, and he felt some slight shivers going down his old frame, caused no doubt by the open window. He left the breakfast-room and entered his study, where a fire was burning, and where, in his opinion, things were much more comfortable. He did not feel well enough to settle down to any special work. He drew up an easy-chair in front of the fire and sat there lost in thought. His darling was safe at home; the apple of his eye was with him. She was all he possessed in the wide, wide world. There was nothing he would grudge her--nothing in reason; but, somehow, he dreaded the time when she would return and talk to him about that letter which must catch the post. Anxiety was bad for him, and his head grew worse. Meanwhile Annie, avoiding Mrs Shelf, took her writing materials into the garden, and in the sunniest corner penned a long letter to her friend. "Of course I am coming, dear Mabel," she wrote. "I have got to tackle the old uncle at twelve o'clock, but it will be all right. When I have seen him and got the needful, or the promise of it, I will write to Lady Lushington. I am looking forward beyond words to our time together. You need not be uneasy; I will manage the horrid bills. Whatever else your Annie lacks, she is not destitute of brains. Trust to me, dear, to see you through. Oh! I am glad that you appreciate my efforts on your behalf.--Your loving friend,-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Annie Brooke." This letter was just written when Mrs Shelf approached Annie's side. "I wonder now, Annie," she said, "if you would mind riding into Rashleigh to fetch Dr Brett. I don't like the state your uncle is in. You could have Dobbin to ride; he's not up to much, but really I think Dr Brett should come. I don't like Mr Brooke's appearance. He is so flashed about the face, and so queer in himself altogether." CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE LETTER. "I will go, of course," said Annie, jumping up; "what is the hour, Mrs Shelf?" "It is a quarter to twelve. You had best go at once; if you don't delay you will catch Dr Brett when he returns home for lunch. Billy can put the saddle on Dobbin for you, and there's the old habit hanging on the peg in your bedroom." "Detestable old habit," thought Annie, "and horrid Dobbin, and shocking side-saddle! Oh dear! oh dear! But whatever happens, I must get that letter off immediately." "Why are you so slow?" said Mrs Shelf, looking at the girl with great annoyance. "Your uncle wants medical aid, and he ought to have it." "I will go, of course," said Annie, "but not for a few minutes. Don't fidget, please; I don't believe there is anything serious the matter with Uncle Maurice. He often has these headaches." She went slowly towards the house. Mrs Shelf stood and watched her.