"I _think_ I'm doing well," said Constancy aloud to herself, as if convincing an opponent. "Ten shillings from the _Guide of Youth_ for the best essay on Reading. I'm glad I was so careful as to what books I mentioned. One must respect people's prejudices. I have much the best chance for all those acrostics and search questions. The editor of _The Children's Friend_ has asked me for another story. This will do. The little delicate boy must catch cold in a thunderstorm when his sister takes him out without leave. Shall he quite die? I think not. The district-visitor shall save his life. And this story for _The Penny Pleasure Giver_. There mustn't be any moral in that at all! Altogether I have got twenty pounds in the last year, and some of the editors write `Dear Madam,' and don't find out I'm only a little girl! Something ought to come out of this place. It's beautiful copy!" she continued, leaning back in her chair and glancing round her, while a certain absorbed receptive look came into her keen eyes, altering her whole expression. She jumped up, and swinging herself into the deep high recess of the little casement, pushed it open and looked out. Beneath her lay a wild untrimmed garden divide! by a sunk fence from a large paddock sloping towards a narrow valley, with heathery hills beyond. The sky was blue and still, with long streaks of pearly silvery cloud across the hilltops. A flight of rooks came home to a group of tall elm trees beside the house, filling the still air with sound. "It's awfully jolly and heavenly!" said Constancy, staring at the dazzling clouds with strong, unfaltering eyes. "It'll do for a description." "What will do for a description?" said an answering voice, like a softer echo of her own, as another girl, a year or so younger than herself, came in and stood below the window, lifting up a face of almost exactly the same shape, more delicate and perhaps less forcible. "Rooks--peace--brownish meadows, and blue sky," said Constancy. "Nice description. What have you been doing, Florella?" "Talking to Aunt Constance about the Waynfletes, and the place. She says she is glad we have come; the house is gloomy, and she has heard odd noises. Oh, Cosy, do you think it could be haunted?"