She is too excited by the strange coincidence of this, their second meeting, to wonder whether she is binding a burden on her back, or offering a refuge thoughtlessly without consulting Carol. She only looks pityingly at the towzled hair and drawn face of her guest, pressing her hand sympathetically as they enter the verandah together. "I am not Mrs. Roche here," falters Eleanor; "you must call me Mrs. Quinton." The woman looks searchingly, sadly, into Eleanor's eyes. "I see," she answers slowly. "And your name?" asks Eleanor. "Palfrey Blum. I am Mrs. Blum." What an odd introduction, what a puzzling fate. Carol is deeply annoyed at his return to discover the guest. "What on earth you want to bring that hideous creature with a head of hay here for I can't imagine," he exclaims. "You must shunt her as soon as possible, Eleanor; I can't have you picking up waifs and strays, and turning our home into a sort of infirmary." "I don't know what to do, it is a most pitiable story." "Oh! dash the story!" interpolates Carol. "I shouldn't mind if she were not so confoundedly ugly." "I could not help it, darling," says Eleanor tearfully. "I did not think you would object." "Well, now she is here, what are you going to do with her?" "I don't know." Carol stalks up and down the room with his hands in his pockets. Eleanor's spirits sink. "I will see what I can do, dearest," she says at last. Carol turns, seeing her beautiful eyes moist and sorrowful. He gathers her into his arms and kisses her suddenly. "Get rid of the old ghost," he whispers. "I can't endure to see a relic of faded beauty standing decayed before my eyes. A woman has no right to grow old, it is an unpardonable offence, and takes away one's appetite having to look at her at meals." "How unchristian you are, Carol!" she says, smiling under his caress. The following morning Mrs. Blum seems refreshed, and looks less careworn after her night's sleep. "There is one thing I desire more than all else on earth," she confides to Eleanor, "and that is to hold my grandson in my arms, and kiss him once." "I have been again to Elizabeth, but she will not listen to me. Perhaps I might get the boy to you without her knowledge, or big Tombo may possibly bring him. There were tears in his eyes to-day when I was pleading with Elizabeth." "Ah! Big Tombo is not so bitter against me as his wife. He is a good man, and charitable." So Eleanor watches for Mr. Kachin to pass down the path to the valley below, where the rice is cultivated. When she sees him she runs out. He stops and bows. Eleanor gives him her hand. "Ah, Mrs. Quinton," he says, "we are deeply indebted to you for your kindness to poor Mrs. Blum. Even my wife in her righteous indignation owns that. I should personally be very glad to do anything I could for her, only Elizabeth is so determined. Can you advise me?" Eleanor thinks a moment.