"She's the Professor's sister." Martha hesitated; poured hot water into the silver teapot; then turned to whisper confidentially, with concentrated dislike: "She's always a-_h_egging of 'em on!" "What a curious occupation," remarked the Boy, blowing a smoke-ring. "Does Miss _H_ann come often?" "No, Mr. Guy. Thanks be, she's a _h_invalid." "Poor Miss _H_ann. What's the matter with her?" Martha snorted. "Fancies herself too much." "What a curious complaint. What are the symptoms?" "Fancies herself in a bath-chair," said Martha, scornfully. "I see," said the Boy. "Oh, poor Miss _H_ann! I should feel very sick if I fancied myself in a bath-chair. I wish I could meet Miss _H_ann. I should like to talk to her about the _h_egging-on business." "_You'd_ make her sit up," said Martha, with spiteful enjoyment. "Oh no, I shouldn't," said the Boy. "That would not be kind to an invalid. I should see that she reclined, comfortably; and then I should jolly well flatten her out." At that moment a shadow fell across the sunny window. Miss Charteris, her guest having departed, passed down the garden steps, and moved across the lawn. The Boy sprang to his feet. At sight of her, his conscience smote him that he should have thus gossiped and chaffed with old Martha. He suddenly remembered why he had originally found his way to the kitchen. "Martha," he said; "I want you to let me carry out the tea-tray this afternoon. She doesn't know I am here. She will think it is you or Jenkins, till she looks round. Let me carry it out, Martha, there's a duck!" "As you please, sir," said Martha; "but if you want her to think it's Jenkins, you must put it down with a clatter. It takes a man to be clumsy." The Boy walked over to the window. The mulberry-tree was not visible from the kitchen table. "Don't go there, Mr. Guy!" cried Martha. "Miss Christobel will see you, sir. This window, and the pantry, show from the garden. If you want to 'ave a look at her, go through that door into the storeroom. The Venetian blind is always down in there. There is one crack through which I----" Martha stopped short, disconcerted. "One crack through which you think I could see? Thank you, Martha," said the Boy, readily. "Hurry up with the tray." He went into the store-room; found Martha's chink, and realized exactly what had been the extent of Martha's view, during the last two days. Then he bent his hungry young eyes on Christobel. She was seated in a garden chair, her back to the house, her face towards the postern gate in the old red wall at the bottom of the garden. The rustic table, upon which he would soon deposit the tea-tray, was slightly behind and to the left of her. The sun shone through the mulberry leaves, glinting on the pure whiteness of her gown. She leaned her beautiful head back wearily. Her whole attitude betokened fatigue. He could not see her face; but he felt sure her eyes were open; and he knew her eyes were on the gate.