Just as she had got out of bed, save that she had a blue quilted silk dressing-gown thrown on, and her feet were thrust into blue quilted slippers, sat Sibylla, before a good fire. She leaned in an easy-chair, reading; a miniature breakfast service of Sevres china, containing chocolate, on a low table at her side. Some people like to read a word or two of the Bible, as soon as conveniently may be, after getting up in the morning. Was that good book the study of Sibylla? Not at all. Her study was a French novel. By dint of patience, and the assistance of Mademoiselle Benoite in the hard words and complicated sentences, Mrs. Verner contrived to arrive tolerably well at its sense. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, when Lionel appeared, "are you not gone shooting with the rest?" "I did not go this morning," he answered, closing the door and approaching her. "Have you taken breakfast?" she asked. "Breakfast has been over a long while. Were I you, Sibylla, when I had guests staying in the house, I should try and rise to breakfast with them." "Oh, you crafty Lionel! To save you the trouble of presiding. Thank you," she continued good-humouredly, "I am more comfortable here. What is this story about a ghost? The kitchen's in a regular commotion, Benoite says." "To what do you allude?" asked Lionel. "Dan Duff is dying, or dead," returned Sibylla. "Benoite was in Deerham last night, and brought him home to carry her parcels. In going back again, he saw, as he says, Rachel Frost's ghost, and it terrified him out of his senses. Old Roy saw it too, and the news has travelled up here." Sibylla laughed as she spoke. Lionel looked vexed. "They are very stupid," he said. "A pity but they kept such stories to themselves. If they were only as quiet as poor Rachel's ghost is, it might be better for some of them." "Of course _you_ would wish it kept quiet," said Sibylla, in a tone full of significance. "I like to hear of these frights--it is good fun." He did not fathom in the remotest degree the meaning of her tone. But he had not gone thither to dispute about ghosts. "Sibylla," he gravely said, putting the open account into her hand, "I have received this bill this morning." Sibylla ran her eyes over it with indifference; first at the bill's head, to see whence it came, next at its sum total. "What an old cheat! Eleven hundred pounds! I am sure I have not had the half." Lionel pointed to the part "bill delivered." "Was that not paid in the spring?" "How can I recollect?" returned Sibylla, speaking as carelessly as before. "I think you may recollect if you try. I gave you a cheque for the amount." "Oh, yes, I do recollect now. It has not been paid." "But, my dear, I say I gave the cheque for it." "I cashed the cheque myself. I wanted some money just then. You can't think how fast money goes in London, Lionel."